Never Alone
by Here Strikes Dawn
Summary: How could Edward accept that his only brother was gone? Al had saved his life. Now a fractured Edward has to face this truth. He had attended the funeral. He had cried until his heart had broken. But Al was not gone, even if nobody else believed him. Al was here - Al was standing right by Edward's side...The brotherly feels. Parental!RoyEd. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: The plot of this story follows the canon storyline in Brotherhood until after Hughes dies, but instead of going to the Devil's Nest and Dublith, Ed, Al and Winry go to Rush Valley, but something called them away from visiting Izumi. So Ed never meets Greed and then Ling and May. The events in this fic begin several months after Rush Valley, with Ed and Al on the search for a means to get their bodies back..._

* * *

 _This nightmare is eternal, like a sinking sand, where nothing will go away. The grief is consuming me._

 _Where are you? Why did you leave me all alone..._

* * *

Chapter 1

Edward was the only one wearing any shade of colour – his infamous red cloak. He hadn't thought about what he was going to wear, and he had shrugged the cloak over his shoulders as he did every morning. Except he had forgotten, or more accurately, he had chosen to forget about the event which had congregated people, half of whom he didn't know, in sombre shades of black together. Everywhere the eye could see there were black suits, black dresses, black coats, as though he was swimming in a sea of the night.

Being here, it felt like night-time. Not the late hours of the day leading into the excitement of midnight, but at night-time early in the morning, where dawn was but a lonely dream. It was a time when shadows reigned, dragging out their ever-lasting dynasty throughout these ungodly hours, where nothing changed. The time was therefore so torturous that everyone slept fitfully through it, but when that night-time ruled Edward's every waking day, it was living through an eternal nightmare.

He longed to forget it all. He wanted to forget the sad faces ushering apologies on him like newly wedded couples had bouquets thrown at them; Edward was drowning in their sympathy. If he could throw it back at them, he would have done so in a heartbeat. But that was the punishment of being young – no matter how mature you acted or proved your worth as an adult a countless number of times, age is a sentence of punishment against you. It meant that these strangers automatically assumed that Edward wanted their sympathy.

Why couldn't they bloody see that he wanted to be left alone?

As he staggered past these people, their faces were blotted out like stains as he sulked past the crowds, noticing nobody. Edward was surrounded in his own bubble of misery, his personal bubble of this endless night-time, that he didn't hear what people were telling him. He carried on walking. Even though he knew neither where he was or where he was going, he continued to move forwards. He couldn't focus his attention on anything else. He was in the state of being in so much pain that it felt like his senses had ceased to function, and Edward had lost the will to care if he was living in a nightmare or not.

He remembered leaving his hotel room looking as scruffy as ever that morning. The trip to this place was a blur. He didn't know how long he had been trapped in this claustrophobic space with these strangers, but time was as lagging as his senses. For all that he was aware; he could have been here for ten minutes or ten years. Edward didn't care – the future had long since lost a purpose to him. He just carried on living, day in, day out, living in his own personalised hell.

But he couldn't define his existence as "living" – he was too raw and hollow inside for that to be a possibility.

His focus temporarily slipped out of his comatose state to register that he had reached a grey, solemn wall. To his left, there was a set of stairs of the same mundane colour. He lumbered forwards and turned, burying his face into his hands like he was about to cry. He automatically tucked his body closer to his chest, as if he believed that his body was able to comfort him in a womb of warmth and remove the pain tearing him apart. The pain had torn apart at his emotions already, and he had been warped into this hollow shell of the Fullmetal Alchemist that now existed in the flamboyant Edward Elric's steed. Edward barely recognised himself anymore.

His skin was stretched over his bones like a mask; there was no muscle left in his arm or leg. His automail had been neglected, so they constituted of metal stumps he dragged around with him, and they were likely to be riddled with cobwebs. His clothes were so loose that his belt was tightened to its fullest potential, and still his trousers threatened to fall down. His slimly fit shirt was baggy and his cloak sagged to the floor, collecting dust and sorrow in its path. Edward didn't dare look in the mirror, but he knew his hair was straw and his eyes were husks – empty, lifeless disks.

There was worse pain to feel.

He had experienced so much pain that it had melded into his framework that had pushed him beyond the agony of automail. The pain had infiltrated his mind, leaving his hollow body remaining. That pain had rendered him unable to feel anything else.

An invisible, yet impenetrable, fog had settled around him, and he wallowed in that darkness on the stairs. His chest was heaving as though he was out of breath, as he felt that pain threatening to consume him; it was all he could do to keep himself alive. Burying himself in the darkness would make that pain go away.

Edward was like a child lost without their mother. And his mother was never coming back for him…

His body choked silently and yet no tears fell. He would have been self-conscious to have the World's eyes watching him, but he huddled on the stairs, memories taunting his mind like dancing shadows around a fire.

His mother was never coming back for him…

He needed that familiar reassurance. That gentle touch on his shoulder, the unspoken comfort which was Edward's purpose for waking up every morning. His breathing fastened. Nothing was ever going to be alright.

It would be time soon. Time when he would have to say goodbye…There was only so much denial that he could muster and as a result, he knew that this moment was real.

Make this pain go away.

Stop. Please.

Too late. A bell chimed somewhere, and a congregation of strangers started to gather around the stairs he was sitting on. Edward looked up, realizing he had positioned himself by the door. It was raining outside. He heard the clomping of military boots. Stop.

He heard cars to a door close. Stop!

Solemn silence followed, and the footsteps proceeded to come into the church. _Stop!_

He couldn't look. He couldn't cry. He buried deeper into the fog, his own eternal nightmare. Nightmares were better than this reality. Everyone else would be staring, pitying, him. He had witnessed too much sorrow for a child this age. But with acknowledgement came acceptance. But. Why.

Why.

Why would he want to look at the box?

Edward glanced up, exhausted, as he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Too late. He had seen it. The wooden coffin was ornate with forget-me-nots arranged in a bouquet of hyacinths. Their literal meaning: don't forget sorrow.

And inside?

Edward choked, realizing his heart was thrumming inside of his chest, and his breathing had quickened yet again.

Alphonse. His baby brother, his gentle baby brother, had the full-decorated honour of a high-ranking military officer. No. No. No. He was Edward's curious, shy and compassionate baby brother.

No. He couldn't say goodbye. No. No. No!

The hand squeezed gently on his shoulder. Edward turned around, and his eyes widened in astonishment. Al was _there_ in the flesh. He wasn't inside that box. He was _here._ With his big brother.

Edward gasped, his body shaking in shock. Of course this was a bad dream. Al would be there in the morning as he always was. Al would radiate his optimism onto Edward's cynicism, and the Elric brothers would seize another day to regain their lost bodies. He knew that today wasn't real.

Al closed his eyes and smiled, and that familiar warmth vanished. Edward blinked. Al wasn't there anymore. Al? Al!"

"Al…"

Edward collapsed, his cloak billowing out around him, as pain contorted through his body. The unsurmountable pain called grief surged through his body. Al was dead.

And Edward was alone.

* * *

 _I'm finally posting this! :D This story is going to be my first attempt at NaNoWriMo, and I have to admit, I am both excited and apprehensive._

 _As to where the idea came from, I read the FMA doujinshi called Traumerei a while ago, and the story's broken Edward coping with the loss of Al is heartbreaking as well as unique. It's beautiful, and I highly recommend it to anyone. I'll have an update schedule (long chapters weekly most likely) ready which I'll post with the next chapter - for the first time in my life I am organized!_

 _If you're enjoying this and want faster updates, please leave me a review. They're greatly appreciated :)_

 _Thank you for reading, and I will see you with the next update ~ Dawn_


	2. Chapter 2

_Memories are like rain. They scour our souls and blot out the stars like ink. Is there a way to make this storm end?_

 _Al...will we ever see the stars again?_

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Chapter 2

A voice started to rouse Edward from his unconscious state. The voice was strong, and reassuring. As he focused his hearing on its tone, the voice drifted into forming words... "I'm here for you, Brother."

How could his brother be here when his brother was dead? Edward had only imagined seeing Al; he was the sole surviving Elric in the family. His bastard of a father did not count as a family member – he hadn't come to Trisha's funeral, and now he was absent from Alphonse's too.

Edward wanted to lurk in this state between dreaming and being awake for a little while longer. He could hear Al's voice here – he wouldn't be alone here. Slowly though, he was slipping away from this place of comfort and solace. Al's voice was fading as Edward reluctantly returned to consciousness.

His eyes blinked in the greyish gloom of the church. He could see the stairs ascending towards the sky to his side and the heads of people watching him like bystanders to tragedy. Why couldn't they understand – he didn't want their sympathy!

"Edward," he flinched to the sound of a familiar voice belonging to its owner in front of him. He didn't care who the voice belonged to. It wasn't Al's. As long as he knew that they wouldn't hurt him, he wouldn't retaliate or try to escape like a feral animal, a hunted victim to weakness. He choked and sobbed, the most pathetic sound, and rested his head on that person's shoulder, lapping up their maternal warmth.

Edward laid there for several minutes, listening to the distant sound of his breathing. People around him drifted away towards the graveyard where the service would be completed. However, Edward was terrified. He couldn't muster up the courage to say goodbye yet, not when he had been forced to part with other familiar faces already. His brother was an integral part of him. His brother was memories of sunshine in Resembool. His brother was an optimistic smile. Al was a bird that couldn't be bound by chains.

And he was going to be buried in the dirt. That body was going to be buried in the dirt. Al had dreamed about finding it for so long, the body which Edward would have paid any price if it meant seeing that wonderful smile one more time.

Alphonse would never smile again, only in Edward's illusions and dreams, the only truly happy places to this nightmare called reality. Edward would have screamed if grief had not robbed him of his capacity to feel pain and cry. He felt so much inside…but to the world outside he was a shaking mess, as fragile as an autumn leaf.

He didn't want their sympathy. He didn't want their pity.

"We have to go, Edward," the voice said. He lifted his head to see who the voice belonged to. They were treating him as an equal, and not as a naïve child. Her blonde hair was pinned back and her honorary uniform was a sour black, but Lieutenant Hawkeye's chocolate eyes were brimmed with warmth, as if she shared a mutual feeling with Edward.

He nodded shakily, and rested a hand on the bottom step as he shifted his weight to stand. His body was feeble and had succumbed to lethargy; he had to focus all of his will on standing. At that moment, a wave of nausea hit him from the pits of his stomach, and he doubled over, choking and spluttering on the pain. Hawkeye neither mumbled fake words of reassurance to him nor slapped his back, as if that would make the pain go away. She simply rubbed his back until he had stopped spluttering.

Edward wiped his mouth uneasily; he wasn't ashamed to be around Hawkeye, but what about Al? Al wouldn't know though. Al wasn't here. Realization struck him as nausea pummelled through his body for its second course. Even if he lacked the control of his body, after drinking several slow sips of water, Edward's breathing had slowed enough for him to start taking several paces forward down the church's hall. As he matched his footsteps to Hawkeye's, he dropped in head in silence. Hawkeye respected his wish not to talk and the two advanced through the church's building together, with only the figures in the stain glass windows bearing witness to them both.

His jaw muscle was tense – he relaxed it. His fists were clenched – he unclenched them. His mind and his body were acting against his will. He was feigning calm.

The church seemed to yawn around them. The grey walls were sombre, and the same sombre-coloured pillars towered towards the ceiling. As Edward looked up, there was an angel crying over the world below as if crying over the sins which people in modern Amestris now committed. To his right there was a chapel raised on a dais, where there were citizens standing in respectful silence as they prayed. They were all clothed in black, like ravens adopting human form.

And next to them…there was one person in colour, in a bright red cloak. He was staring downwards towards the ground, seeing nothing. But as Edward abruptly paused in his astonishment, his mouth gaping as wide as a cavern, Al snapped out of his reverie, his whole body straightening as he acknowledged Edward's presence with a welcoming wave. His gaze wandered from his right to his left, and his shoulders hunched awkwardly as he shuffled back from the crowds to go and meet his older brother. Edward's feet left him paralyzed. He was too shocked to speak and he closed his mouth, biting his lip instead, his face contorting into unique shapes through his confusion.

Al was coming closer – he was striding forward at a brisk walk – as fast as he could without appearing to be disrespectful to the other churchgoers. Edward then noticed that those people at the chapel were still drawn over like hunchbacks, as if they had not been alerted to Al's jerky movements at all. Did they even know Al was here?

Suddenly, he remembered. Again. Al was in the rain, out there. This Al tilted his head in confusion, and his eyes blinked in evident realization. He placed a finger to his lips, as though he was saying: _this is our secret._ When Edward closed his eyes and opened them again, Alphonse had gone.

He was reaching out for his brother. Edward shuddered as Hawkeye gently took his hand and brought it back to Edward's side, where his hand of flesh clung to his cloak. The chasm which was the church yawned even more greatly around him. His head bowed over, Edward watched as his boots moved forwards as if drifting without a mind to control him. Light flooded over him as they reached the gates leading out into the cemetery – the rain had decided it wanted to rest, leaving sloshy and muddy earth all around him.

If Edward stood there, would the ground raise him up? Would he fall through the ground and be forgotten?

Trepidation engulfed him; he became aware of the overwhelming claustrophobia in his mind. However, he had not felt this way in the church. He was inching closer to the inevitable, and his body betrayed him – he was afraid. So afraid.

He couldn't say goodbye.

The cemetery around him was quiet, almost tranquil, like an afternoon in the fields of Resembool. The grass was lush for late autumn, and the ground was decorated with leaves every shade of yellow and brown. There was a slight breeze in the air which would rustle the leaves, so they skittered across the ground like pond skaters over water, dancers of their own kind. Beneath the season's decoration of the leaves' mahogany fire, the ground was saturated from days of rain. It was the time in autumn where it was cold enough to be classified as winter, but not cold enough for any snow to fall; it was a dreary in-between time.

Edward heard the creek of a bare-branched tree swish in the wind, the twitter of a single blackbird and he imagined hearing the looming clouds above usher storm. Sunlight was piercing through the bloated grey clouds, like the light that Al brought to Edward could never be extinguished despite how much despair surrounded him.

He took a deep breath as if he was swallowing the calm and quiet here. It was reassuring, and helped to push away the nausea aching away in his chest, like a parasite feeding on his hope. His boots were already coated in mud, as if he was wading through a river, and lifting his cloak, he started to pursue the footsteps of the procession that would lead him to his brother.

After a step, he stopped. Even though the mud only reached his ankles, he struggled to move; in his mind, he was sinking. It was like being trapped in the middle of a storm cloud, with the tension literally crackling around him as tangible as electricity, but it hadn't released yet. The thunder had not boomed and the lightning had not rippled like a shockwave through the sky. Edward knew that this stage was the worst part – he had been waiting, waiting and waiting for the day of the funeral, and now that it was finally here, and he was forced to face his demons, the fear of being alone forever consumed him. He didn't want to take that final step. His stomach was empty, his chest was heaving. But he had to keep going. He couldn't surrender now; he had to carry on moving forward.

He had to be a hero, and heroes had to be brave.

"This is the last stage now, Edward. You're almost there," Hawkeye's voice was already a familiar reassurance to him. Yes…the light shining from the sun would help to guide his path. He was almost there. Edward lifted a sleeve to rub away the cold sweat brewing on his forehead and lifted his head to look up towards the hill. There were at least a hundred people congregated around that one spot, reapers cloaked in black, and strangers surrounding his brother, while Edward was lost and lingering at the back of the crowds.

No…they were people he knew. They were here because they loved Alphonse, though never nearly as much as Edward loved his little brother. Every single one of them had been there to help the brothers on their quest and they had asked for nothing in return. They had cheered both of them up, they had been the catalyst which had helped the brothers to wake up the next day to try and reclaim their bodies.

But they had relied upon each other too much. Edward knew that deep down, deeper than his own soul that there was a bond stronger than blood which linked them both together. As Al had saved Edward from death, he had done the exact same. However, what mattered was that they would do the same thing again in a heartbeat. Edward was willing to risk his life for Al a countless number of times. That unspoken bond was like a promise they had made to each other, and now Edward was breaking it.

His heart was breaking apart even though it had broken already.

Whenever his thoughts drifted to Al, and all that had happened, he couldn't help but fall apart, and each time it hurt more than the last. The grief was blunt and raw like an infected wound. Edward looked up to the sky and saw that a drizzle had started to drip down from the heavens above.

"Yeah…everyone's waiting for us…" Edward whispered. _Are you also waiting for us on that lonely hill, Al?_

They embarked onward. As the land started to slope upwards, Edward thought that he was crossing the ridge of a gorge; if he slipped, he would spiral away into oblivion. He took hesitant, slow steps through the tracks left by the footprints before. He wouldn't fall. Rain caressed his face like powder and obscured his vision as it fell in heavier blotches around his eyes. The earth below spat out the water so that a river of mud started to flow down the hill. Hawkeye, in her ever silent presence was only a step behind like a beacon of assurance. He didn't have to see her to know that she was there.

The indistinct blur of people were becoming clearer; he could see taller and shorter individuals in the mass of black. They had their backs to him and none of them were holding umbrellas or shielding their faces from the rain. Edward lifted a hand to his cheek; the touch was cold, but comforting like a mother's touch gently embracing him. He clenched his fist, oblivious to the dull ache of his automail, as he battled against the muddy river below with the rain as his ally. His legs were heavy with exhaustion and he was numb from the cold, but still he ploughed on, wind singing past his ears.

His coat was filthy. His hair was drenched, and his automail was starting to gum up. Edward kept his face down, willing his body to take the next step and even though every step became harder to take, and the pain stabbed at him inside-out so that he wanted to lie down in the dirt and sleep until spring, he carried on. He didn't feel brave. He didn't want to be a hero. When his feet came into contact with harder ground, he blinked the rain away in surprise – he had just walked into a person. That meant…he had made it. He was finally at the summit of the hill.

Eyes turned to him. He must have looked the image of a bandit, but with his head raised and eyes staring into the horizon, Edward stepped forward. The crowd parted in two as he silently drifted through. Inside, his heart felt like it was in a train wreck and fear was pounding at his head like propellers. He felt his strength being sapped and invisible roots clawing from the earth which were going to drag him through the ground.

His knees buckled and the ground rushed up to meet him. Just in time, more than ten pairs of hands leapt out to catch him. They wrapped around his chest as he was pulled into their embraces all at once. Edward was suddenly airborne, but before he could struggle, he was placed on the familiar ground again. Yet the hands didn't let go. He could feel their warmth. They were there. His friends.

Al's friends.

Edward closed his eyes for a second. In that second, he imagined that he was at home in Resembool. It wasn't raining, but it was a warm afternoon in summer. The cicadas were humming in the trees, woodpeckers drilled at their holes and bees swarmed around the blooming flowers. He was young, no older than five, and his hand was raw from falling over. He was angry, and mad, but he wouldn't cry. He had run home to his mother.

She had bathed the wound in honey and dried his hand with her dress. She would tuck him into her arms and repeatedly whisper, "My brave, little man" to him. Although as quickly as that second had started, it ended just as rapidly.

The hands let go of him one by one and he completed one of the hardest journeys in his life. He was before the gravestone.

 _Alphonse Elric_

 _1900~1915_

Edward was at his most vulnerable. He was at point blank range for anyone willing to shoot. He lost all sense of his surroundings, as though he was being plunged face-first into deep water. It was just him and his brother in Edward's world. This was his final goodbye before his Alphonse was laid to rest. But he didn't know what to say.

Warmth coursed through his body. All of that anxiety and fear melted away like the wax from a burning candle as Edward's soul brimmed with love, and to him, this love was a need, as real as breathing. He couldn't survive without it.

As he couldn't survive without Al.

In this place, this ripple separating reality from fantasy, every memory the brothers had shared shone around him, like when he gained the knowledge of alchemy from the portal of Truth. Al was a toddler, whom Edward would endlessly tease and taunt; Al was a young boy tottering on his two feet, struggling to keep up with his brother; Al was a boy weeping beside a grave; Al was the child smiling, his eyes focused in cool determination; Al was the soul ripped apart from his body, but still Edward could hear sonorous laughter ringing around Al like a bell. Al was his brother.

"Al…" Edward's voice choked, his face squashed up as he tried to stop the tears. "You dumbass…"

And flash. He was back at the cemetery. The rain was a flurry swirling around him as he buried a hand into his trouser pocket, the secret he had been carrying with him since the news about Al had reached him. Edward's hand brushed tenderly over the pages to the closed notebook containing all of the meals Al had wanted to have once he had his body back. Inside, Al's delicate handwriting was neatly spread across the pages, a masterpiece in comparison to Edward's elongated scrawl.

Al's beautiful casket was lowered into the earth by high-ranking officers of the military. They lowered it with care like they would a newly-born child. But Al wasn't there. It was only his body. He was with their mother, in a place of freedom and protection, where he could adopt all of the stray cats that he wanted and watch the sun set and the moon rise. Edward had never been religious, but he believed Al would be happy in his own paradise called Heaven.

He only hoped that it was beautiful.

The pain and tears overwhelmed him all at once. He let the tears fly away like birds set free, his whole body quaking, alive. But Al's body was trapped there beneath the earth. His brother couldn't finish the things that they had left unfinished. They had places to see and people to meet. Edward wanted to continue his journey. And Al had saved his life, only to sacrifice his own. This couldn't be the end…not after all they had witnessed.

"You dumbass…" Edward murmured again, as the military rifles sounded into the sky. Edward then heard the scoop of the shovels as they trickled dirt into the grave. As if on cue, a flock of blackbirds soared overhead, scared by the rifle fire and they started flying far away from the melancholy of this hill.

Edward was frozen to the core, like a bullet of ice had scoured his layer of grief. He felt the touch of people pressing around him as Al was laid to rest. Alone. Edward started shivering, his teeth chattering a melody for the missing.

"Don't cry for me, Brother. I'm right here…"

Standing before the grey skies, Al stood by the burial site as a golden silhouette. Nobody seemed to notice him. He smiled wanly at the gravestone by his side and laid a hand on its surface before taking a tentative step towards Edward. As if trying to capture a dream, Edward lifted out an arm…reaching for Al…seeking that warmth…before Al faded away forever…

Edward just wanted to hold onto this illusion for another moment more. The illusion where Al would be by his side forever.

* * *

 _My update schedule for this story will be every Sunday and every second Friday! I'm getting excited just thinking about regular updates :D Today is the exception, of course, but the next update will be on Sunday. Have faith, readers, my other stories will be getting updates too, but as this is my main NaNoWriMo challenge, this is the story I'll be focusing on for November._

 _Thank you for reading and I'll see you with the next update! ~ Dawn_


	3. Chapter 3

_We loved the sun, didn't we, Al? It was warm, filling us with hope and determination, but it caressed us too._

 _And now it's all grey. I can't see the colour anymore...How will I know when the storm is over if I can't see the rainbow?_

 _... It's so dark and cold._

* * *

Chapter 3

Sunlight was beginning to shimmer through the closed curtains. Dawn was approaching. Edward had been waiting for this moment. He had laid awake all night listening to nothing, and about an hour ago the birds had started to stir, sitting on the rooftop while singing their melodic whistle.

Dawn was here at last, the fourth dawn since the funeral, and he had been sent back home to Resembool. The country air and calm of his hometown were an important stage in his grieving process, the doctor had told him. But to Edward, the dagger of grief had contorted and elongated to transform into a sword, as his unseen wounds inside were throbbing worse than before.

It was his fault. All of it was his fault.

He gazed around the bedroom as had become his routine, but of course Al wasn't anywhere in sight. As Ed thought back to the years he had stayed here with Winry and Granny, except for the time that he had visited on his own and when he was in recovery after his automail surgery, he had always shared a room with Al. It was just a simple detail, yet it was those details which swallowed Edward down a spiral of despair.

His cloak lay resting on the back of the chair at the opposite end of the room with a desk piled full of documents from the military. Within, it held an account of every military mission the brothers had ever completed and signed off in the Colonel's rushed hand. In those files were five years of memories, the only traces that proved the events happened were the inky trails brought to paper and in Edward's mind.

He couldn't bring himself to read them. He couldn't bring himself to slide out of bed to open the curtains and windows to let the sunlight seep into the bedroom. He wanted to curl up and sleep. The world had lost its colour – as he stared blandly at his cloak, it shimmered unhappily in a fluorescent grey shade to Edward's eyes. The eyes that was hollow and unseeing of the light which rippled around Edward like an iridescent pool.

Edward leaned up in the bed as the light shifted across the room. The sky was like a mirror reflecting sunlight and moonlight at both dawn and dusk. His feet were covered first, and the light slowly creeped up his body until his face was coated with the invisible warmth. He imagined the beautiful world in colour. Would he see it again?

A sound shifted Edward out of his stupor. The phone was ringing. It often did nowadays, but Winry and Granny knew better than to hand the phone to him a dozen times a day to have reams of condolences hurled at him. Everyone meant well, but the funeral was over.

Edward heard the patter of feet descending rapidly down the stairs. That had to be Winry unless Granny had won a huge lot in a game of poker. Edward shifted his weight so his head pressed against the wall. Nobody called this early in the morning. This one must have been important.

Winry's optimistic voice answered the phone, a little too cheerful than would have been normal for her, "Rockbell Automail. Winry speaking!"

There was a pause, "Oh, hello Colonel, Sir."

She made a coughing sound, in between a laugh and a sob, "He's been in his bedroom since he came back…No, he hasn't read your letters…Thank you, Sir…Ok, goodbye…"

Despite Edward knowing that Winry was talking about him being the only male in the house, he knew they were going to call about him beforehand. What did the Colonel want? What letters…It didn't matter – he wanted to sleep.

But hunger pangs were gnawing at his insides like a wild beast. He would have to drag himself downstairs eventually if he wanted to get anything to eat all day - he certainly would not get breakfast in bed. Edward sighed and stretched his already weary limbs, his automail creaking from their lack of maintenance. He shifted to the side, letting his feet flop over the bed side, imagining he was a diver on the edge of a platform about to fall from a height into a swimming pool. Standing even made him feel nauseous now. Swallowing the bile trickling into his throat, Edward propelled himself off the bed with a boost from his hands and sailed across the room, reaching for the door handle to hold him upright.

As he opened his door, a force from the outside tried to open the door from the opposite direction. Edward automatically let go and there was a disdainful "Ouch!". He leaned his head out into the hallway to see Winry collapsed on the floor, rubbing a sore spot on her head tenderly with a stack of letters flying freely in the air scattered around her.

She winced like a hypochondriac, muttering curse words under her breath before she noticed Edward's presence. He was only watching on but Winry's azure gaze softened. Edward dropped to the floor as he helped her to scramble up the letters, each with the addressee's name _Edward Elric_ written onto them. Those were the letters that Winry had mentioned on the phone, although it would be more accurate to describe them as a cascade or a waterfall of sheets; there were so many of them. Edward had picked up at least fifty before he lost count.

They weren't cards from well-wishers sending their love and sympathy – these were formal letters with the appropriate envelope and military seal pressed into the top left hand corner. The handwriting on the front were replicas of each other too; the letters were from the same person. The only person that Edward knew to be capable of completing this much paperwork in this short a space of time was the Colonel.

Edward clasped at his empty pocket, where his State Alchemist's pocket watch would have rested. As soon as Edward had received the news about Al, he had resigned as State Alchemist. However, in the circumstance that he would change his mind; the Colonel had placed him on temporary absence from work. The question wasn't when would he change his mind. It was: why would he change his mind?

Winry picked up the last letter by the door to her bedroom and placed them into Edward's hands. He would have loved the feeling of the expensive paper, like a dove's wing, but they felt like rough sandpaper to him. She drew a breath as if intending to speak before she averted her gaze. Silence had become the norm between the two feuding blonds ever since the quiet one wasn't here anymore. It was cruelly ironic.

However, she thought better of her indifference and turned to face Edward. "You are coming out with me today. We're going at midday. I don't care if I have to drag you out of this house." And then her tone softened, "You need to feel the sun, Ed."

He looked absent-mindedly at her, wishing that a snappy retort would spring to mind as it always used to. Or a wicked laugh that would turn Winry red with embarrassment. Or a snide remark that would make Winry smack him. His mind was locked away in that eternal night-time though, a punishment for stepping too close to the sun. "I've walked there already, Win. But I fell back to the ground."

"Not just you, Edward. You're not alone in this," Winry said comfortingly as she adopted a wistful gaze, wise beyond her years, "Midday."

Edward nodded in response, closing the door behind him, his appetite suddenly lost. He trailed his way to the curtains which he reluctantly opened, and the countryside of Resembool literally poured into the bedroom. Glimpsing through the panel of glass, the greying grass lay endlessly around him. They were useless now that the harvest was over, and the dying stalks remained before they were snagged away from this world by biting frost. Below the ground the seeds would wait in a tranquil slumber until spring arrived. If only he could hibernate through the winter. Edward had three months of long, fathomless nights to sit awake all night, remembering the same day in his mind over and over again. A month ago he had nightmares about the 3rd October 1910, but now those nightmares had shifted to that day.

The day that Al's light had been robbed by the darkness like a delicate candle being snuffed out.

By the windowsill, Edward collapsed to his knees. It was an ordinary morning at the start of winter, where dew drops refracted sunlight from their resting place on the barren stalks. The walking clouds that were sheep had been moved into barns for the chilling mornings, and the sun feigned heat. Wasted leaves from the trees had deadened too to and had lost their vibrant colours like how they had lost their lives.

The clouds would have been tinged with pinks and purples from the predawn light, but to Edward it was all still grey. Grey and grey. In the dawn light, he would have been rushing out of the house, letting the sunlight beat over him and filling him with determination. And now he was ruminating in bed, watching as the tides of time slipped in and out in its never-ending circle.

Edward couldn't break free from that cycle no matter how hard he tried to escape. He awoke every morning to the same lifeless world, deadened of redemption. He tugged at his shirt over the place where his heart had once lived; now it was shrivelled up and broken. Horribly wounded like it had been inflicted with a gunshot wound. No scars could trace Edward's battered soul.

He watched with dull eyes as the morning brought forth the moor creatures from their dens; squirrels were scavenging for the last store of supplies before they tucked themselves away in their dens until spring arrived. Nature despised winter with a passion and wildlife skipped over this season like it didn't exist, like it wasn't worthy of the world's time.

For some reason, Edward's finger traced the lining of the wood of the windowsill, making ghosts appear as he breathed on the cold glass. As a child, he would have drawn alchemic arrays on the transparent surface, tempted to the science as other children were tempted to sweet treats, while the very thought of performing alchemy repulsed him. He shuddered and stared at his hands, knowing the chaotic potential that they could release with a clap.

Magic was just for fairy tales, and he had woken up into this cold reality the day his brother had performed alchemy, trying to save the world, trying to rid the putrid evil which was riddled through Amestris, and in return Al had been…

He couldn't delve back into that memory. He couldn't relive the horrors of that day. However, Edward knew instinctively that there was an hourglass at the back of his mind and that in the near future, he would have to remember the day that Al died. But for now, he could shoulder that aside amid the many other things he wanted to forget.

His automail was stiff, even though there wasn't a storm ushering in the horizon; the skies were blue and the land peaceful. His body ached from being cramped up in this room for so long – and he had to agree with Winry for once that the fresh air could help inspire his mind to come to life again before every hope and dream he had witnessed ceased to exist forever. Edward's left eye was blinded by a flash of light that beamed through at an angle that caused him to wince and soothe his sore eye. As if nature had had this fiasco planned from the beginning, Edward caught sight of his reflection unawares.

He gasped, his hands moving over his face. His skin was sallow, the colour of dead stalks of barley, which was an in-between shade of grey, black and gold. He couldn't look at any more of his face, knowing that he was dishevelled enough to be mistaken for a scarecrow. It was humiliating.

Why should he care? He had more than enough pity to wallow himself in.

 _Midday._ The zenith point of the sun's ascension into the sky before it slipped into a steady descent towards the underworld. The opposite of midnight, the witching hour, when all is held in potential and so midday must have had no potential at all. However, he couldn't let her down. Some deep, repressed memory of a younger Edward whispered its way through the trails of his mind, of a time at a train station when he had promised Winry that she would no longer shed tears of sorrow.

She would shed tears of joy. Joy. And look at how he had failed her.

Since his consciousness was at the bottom of Hell already, he could only go up. Edward would never reach Heaven, or reach Purgatory for that matter, but if he could just raise a few paces from the bottom, he hoped that would be enough. He wasn't a phoenix who could miraculously rise from the ashes of the dead.

He was a human, an ordinary human with the faintest will to live of keeping the promises he couldn't abandon. That would have to be enough.

* * *

Edward clambered into the bedroom, shivering from the shower. He had a loose towel draped across his shoulders and another fastened around his waist. His wet footprints had left a trail leading back through the hallway into his bathroom, which was strictly reserved for patients of the Rockbell's strong automail business. Ever since Edward had returned however, the house had been quiet. Granny would be musing on the front porch with her ever-present pipe, Winry would be tinkering in her workshop, and he would opt for looking out of the window, or stroking Al's notebook absent-mindedly while time slipped through his fingers like sand.

He should have felt self-conscious, but he was beyond the point of pride. But he was cold, so he hastily reached a hand into the wardrobe and pulled out a random attire of clothing and draped them over his shaking body. With his wet hair a dripping mass by his side, he took the towel and rubbed his hair furiously, hands straining with the effort. He clasped the towel in one hand while checking for how dry his hair was. Once it had stopped dripping and he had ceased to look like a golden wildfire, Edward collapsed on the bed to stare at the white walls of the ceiling.

As he flopped onto the bed, there was a crumple of paper, or _papers_ more accurately. Edward had forgotten about the letters!

Luckily, only the top three had crumpled, and they had only frayed at the corners, like a sturdy rope unwilling to snap despite how much weight and strain it had added on to its list of burdens. He had never seen so many letters addressed to him in one location before and not by the same person. There was not a drop of ink spilt, but Edward's damp hair had caused ink stains to spatter along the frayed letters like teardrops. That was what Winry would think.

He held the top letter tenderly. Edward felt the indentation of the pen on the paper, and the military seal pressed into it too, and he traced the opening outline of the letter. He took a breath, and just as he was about to open it, a voice barked from down the stairs, "Edward, you runt! There's food down here for you to eat!"

Pinako got straight to the point. If he wasn't hungry earlier, now his stomach was swirling in evident delight at being treated to a meal. Edward sighed – if only he could make his soul tingle with intangible excitement again, the sort of excitement that would make him hop on his feet. Looking at his bare toes, five metal digits and five flesh ones, he realized that his automail would start to creak and stiffen if he didn't thoroughly dry and apply oil to the joints. And that oil was trapped in a cupboard downstairs. He had no choice but to descend into Pinako's lair called the kitchen.

Little did Edward know that those letters piled and abandoned on his bed were some of the closest connections he would have to Alphonse in the future. They wouldn't be forgotten for long.

Edward's mind was otherwise occupied to the fresh smell of breakfast and coffee. He had coffee to stay awake all night to complete an assignment he had months to complete which he had started the night before. His nights were eternal now, and the issue was not staying awake but falling asleep, so he submissively held his breath as he entered the kitchen.

Den barked and greeted him with a familiar wag of her tail. Edward smiled slightly and stroked the rolls of skin around her neck before he went over to the sink to wash his hands. Knowing he would be without caffeine willingly, he poured himself a glass of water which was tepid and unappetising. He never thought that the day would come when he lost his appetite completely. The slice of toast and butter with a tub of yoghurt by the side of the plate would be more than filling for him.

Pinako was sucking her pipe at the table like there was a gathering sheen of smoke surrounding her, giving her a mystical aura. However, she was more down to earth than anyone else that Edward knew. Again, she got straight to her point, "Winry told me you're going out today."

"Yeah…" Edward said through his slow, careful chewing of his slice of toast. "We're going at midday."

"Good. If you believe you're going stir-crazy in this house, think of me stuck with you lot here," she grumbled, and Den wagged her tail with the affirmative, agreeing clueless with her mistress. "Children…"

"I'm not as short as you, Granny," Ed answered simply. He didn't break out in a series of adamant protests or tried to argue with her, but he would still defend himself.

"Of course not, Ed," Pinako released a final smoke ring that was monstrous in size like a hula-hoop before pushing her chair away from the table. She patted her hip and Den rushed to her side, and together they left the kitchen to inhabit somewhere else in the house. For Granny to leave so silently meant that she must have been content with his answer.

Edward was left alone at the kitchen table nibbling at his toast. It was cold after ten minutes, and he had barely eaten half of it. While his stomach prospered at the idea of being fed, he just didn't possess the energy to eat. If he ate too quickly, the food would sit inside and refuse to settle and it would eventually come back up again. Even a mundane routine had become meticulous, requiring patience and care for Edward to fulfil.

He managed to finish his toast in an hour but had to leave the yoghurt untouched. Edward knew from the notebook wedged firmly in his pocket that yoghurt had been on Al's list of food to eat when he got his body back. And Al's only feasible explanation was that he liked fruit, and so he wanted to try every assorted flavour of yoghurt. Edward's one had been full of blueberries. He and Al had picked them in the farmer's fields if they had been good at helping the farmer with chores throughout the day. They had been allowed to pick the ripest ones, and they would sit on a fence and watch the sunset, happily eating away at the blueberries they had horded.

How could Edward eat them now?

"Don't be afraid, Brother. You need to keep your strength up," a voice murmured from outside, as light and delicate as a breeze. Edward stirred, ripples of pain pounding through his body.

His face grimaced as he grappled the back of the chair to keep himself upright. He turned around slowly, pain-staking and inching movements, until he faced the direction that Al's voice had come from. This was the hardest part. Hearing Al, seeing Al, because for a second, Edward believed that he could rush up to embrace his brother, armour or not, and know that Al was safe. That Al was _alive._

"I'm here, Brother," Al whispered again, his tone as soft as dandelions blowing in the wind. Edward felt the toast in his stomach begin to churn uneasily as if on unsettled waters, like a storm rising.

 _No, you're not here, Al. You could never end up in Hell with me._ Edward thought bitterly. _This is just a dream._

And then he saw Al. Al was radiating with a faint golden light with the same aureate hues of sunset. Like the sunsets when they were stuffed full of blueberries. He was standing by the open door, his hair neatly-cropped in a side parting, his loose clothing perfectly fit. Al had an expression of concern over his face, "I'm here, Brother."

Edward retched, collapsing over the kitchen floor. His stomach heaved and his soul panged with loss. He couldn't hold anything in. he didn't have the dignity or strength to swallow his grief. Al was here. But Al wasn't here.

Yet this Al stayed for a moment longer and like a ghost's touch, he whispered, "I'm here, Brother. Don't cry."

Edward wailed a begging, "Al!" and cradled into a ball wishing that this nightmare would end. He hated the dark; he hated all of it so much. Because when he had a glimpse of the stars, of a warm golden light, it was snatched away from him forever.

But Edward held in the tears. He was going to stay true to the promises he had made.

* * *

 _Poor Ed ;( ;( it's ok though little blondie, you have an entire army of us who will protect you and Al!_

 _Phew, this update schedule is giving me an incentive to write more and complete updates in time! Even if I barely made it, here is the next chapter true to my word on Sunday. The next one will be on Friday :)_

 _Thank you for reading and I'll see you with the next update! ~ Dawn_


	4. Chapter 4

_We could sprint from home to Winry's so quickly when we were younger. It seemed like our legs were moving so fast that we were flying._

 _We were free. We could make everyone smile just by being ourselves._

 _I know I'm now tethered to the ground, but please...please don't fly away without me, Al._

* * *

Chapter 4

Her workplace was the definition of chaos. Light showered into the automail workshop where she lingered these days. Her muscles were tense and as she rolled her shoulders above her head, stretching like a cat, her body clicked into place. And still she was exhausted.

Winry pulled a loose hand through her blonde hair tied in a loose ponytail. She had no energy to even put it into a twist. Her eyes were glazed with tiredness and in the bright surroundings she rubbed her temples, imagining she could induce sleep over her body with some psychic power.

Any psychic power would do if it meant that she could fulfil her wish. They were two wishes actually, but one of them did not relate directly to her. She wanted Al back. Not armoured Al, not a young Al, the Al who looked like he was sleeping in the casket. And through this wish, she would fulfil her own: Bring Ed a smile, just one, please.

Please ease the pain away from him.

She couldn't believe that a month had passed when Ed had come home alone. When Winry had heard the news delivered to her front door in the shape of a bedraggled Edward, she had stared past him, hoping to see the hulking figure of a clanking suit of armour, or seeing a malnourished young man hobbling up the hill after his older brother, even if that man was in fact a baby.

Winry didn't care which Al had come home, as long as her closest friends, her _brothers,_ came home together like they had promised her before they had left on their journey searching for a fable. She had been convinced by the conviction in their voices when they told her that they would be coming back home soon. Dummies.

Through her stupor, that dreaded realization shook through her body like a thunder strike. Al hadn't been _there._ Where was he? But no, he wasn't here. The last of his blood lived through Ed, the golden-eyed alchemist who had stumbled home on his own to deliver the news that Al was dead. The sun had been setting. Granny had turned towards the setting sun and lowered her head. She wouldn't reveal her tears.

Winry had run up to Edward and he was as frail as a fallen leaf about to snap. There was no life left in his soul, and only Ed's silent rise and fall of his chest were any indication that he was alive. Winry had sobbed, screamed, threw her emotions at the heavens to have them crash back down around her again. And Ed hadn't been able to lift a finger. It was as though a part of him had died with his younger brother.

Dummies.

In her workshop, it was approaching midday. She had managed to coax a few words out of Ed today. She would have considered that an achievement a month ago for now, she was Ed's unknown rehabilitator. They all were. Their sole aim was to let him see the light, but even with the light soaking and warming the automail resting beneath her palms, it was cold, like there was an invisible barrier that was blocking off the connection between her and the automail.

Winry shook her head at the conflicting emotions swirling through her mind. She had known that she had loved Ed for many years, even if she hadn't realized it properly until the start of that summer. And yet now she felt that she was violating Ed and she would be stealing the love that he had poured into his journey to bring Al back. Ed loved his brother so much. She didn't want to trespass and risk breaking that connection between Ed and his fallen sibling. Because if that broke, she feared Ed would slip out of Winry's grasp and no matter how loudly she called his name, he would not return.

She had become like a mother-figure to him. Winry loved him…but in a different way. She was so selfish for thinking that Edward would see her in the same way that she saw him. But Winry didn't care. He was alive, but grasping on by the threads of his hair.

Somewhere, deep down inside of that hollow shell that Edward had slipped into, she knew he was crying out and fighting. She had to help him into the light. Until that day arrived, she would push aside her own emotions.

Her hand recoiled to the tear that had landed upon it, glistening crystal-white. Was this what love looked like? And how it was slipping out of her like a breath being released from her weary body.

Unknown to Ed, ever since he had returned, she hadn't slept through a full night. The dark shadows manifested into demons in front of her telling her that she could have _done more._ If she had used her initiative and chased the Elrics through their fantasy, she could have stopped them, she could have warned them.

She could have saved Al.

Winry knew it wasn't her fault and that fate was simply laughing at the world by throwing Al out of the game of life. She was angry at her powerlessness, and that made her fearful.

And so she was staying awake until the early hours into the morning, or not sleeping at all. She had to finish the project that she was starting. Her deadline was today, or more specifically at midday.

Ed would be waiting for her downstairs. She hadn't heard him creep back upstairs after Granny had summoned him into the kitchen. Life was continuing onwards, even though she hated to admit it.

She wiped away her tears and smiled wanly; she couldn't spill her grief onto Edward's new automail that she had crafted for him. Even if she couldn't do much, she had to do her best.

* * *

Midday. Midday at the end of autumn which was beginning to wade into winter's territory…so why was it so hot?

Edward considered it a journey. Even if it was a simple stroll down the hill which he had been able to sprint in five minutes as a child, this trek felt like it was lasting for a lifetime. He had to endure each step, his legs trembling in weakness. Winry was walking silently beside him taking a single step for his ten. She was carrying a heavy bag her shoulders which clinked, full of some project she was working on.

Knowing her, she had probably dragged him out of the house in her endless pursuit for supplies.

His brow was covered with sweat and he was breathing in heavily as though his lungs could only suck a minuscule particle of air each time that he breathed. Every breath caused a rhythm of stabs to flutter through his chest. His muscles were so tense that even his most vital human need was failing him. And after his wave of nausea earlier in the kitchen, he had forgotten about the oil for his automail that he wanted to soak into his metallic joints to ease the stiffness away.

That was one pain that he could heal. One of the infinite agonies surging through his body. His immune system was fragile and was almost volatile like fireworks – one wince or speck of pain could cause the grief to overwhelm and render him defenceless _again._

The words of the promises were flying in his mind and had stayed by his side, keeping him aloft before he fell into the waves rippling from the sea of despair. A sea so dark and fathomless that no monster dare lurk there. The sea itself was the monster.

The sun had waged war on Edward too, for its rays were as potent as firearms on his white skin. It had been so long since he had been touched by its light. And yet it was far from comforting. Each step burnt that little bit more and Edward was swallowed by disbelief as he stared down the hill. They weren't even halfway there.

His legs gave up on him then. He stumbled a few steps forward, grasping blindly for something to support his weight. Luckily they were in a farming district, meaning the fields were full of sheep, meaning the animals had to be penned up, and so fences arose along the sides of the country path, as abundant as weeds. Edward let his entire body droop on its structure like a wilting flower.

He saw Winry stop, pivot around on the spot and come walking up to him. She dropped her bag to the floor. "I was hoping that we could do this once we reach where we are going. But I guess you're too impatient for that."

Edward's eyes sparkled for an instant in confusion and surprise before being suppressed, _flattened,_ by the discomfort harrowed down to his soul. Thinking hurt. And so he mumbled a faint response back, "I was on time for midday, wasn't I?"

Winry gazed at him as she firmly opened her case, grinning like a pirate who had found their legendary treasure. Her complexion softened to a shy smile and turned the case around for Edward to be able to inspect its contents.

Automail. Or so he thought. These were perfection. These were crafts caressed with the highest skill and care. He tenderly reached out a finger to the right arm and leg that rested in the case, but he stopped himself just before he could touch the metal. They were too precious for his hands to hold. No amount of polishing of his current automail could make them shine as much as this automail shone. It was like trying to compare artificial lights to the stars. There was no way that one could compare the work of anything to the work of Heaven.

In the sunlight, the metal rippled like liquid silver. Each bolt and screw was proportioned with flawless precision. And the design was sleek, elegant and mature. It was as though receiving this automail would be the augmentation ceremony that would enter him into adulthood.

Was it…for him?

No. He didn't deserve this.

How could he deserve anything this perfect?

He let his hand drop to his side. But before it could fall, something, someone caught it. Winry reached out with a tender touch and brought his hand gently, until his palm came into contact with a frozen surface. He felt like his hand was reaching through the sky and that his hand was being bathed in starlight.

This was…for him?

Answering his unspoken question, Winry nodded the affirmative, and suddenly in the sunlight, her blonde hair looked like a ribbon of halo. She crouched down beside him and his left hand moved along the arm and leg, wondering at how his brilliant automail engineer had performed the work of a deity and was presenting it to him.

And there was no sympathy in her gaze. There was no pity. Her blue eyes held a similar pain that was gnawing away inside of Edward but they also shone with a determination, a fire, yet equally with a compassion had had not noticed in her before. Edward finally realized why doctors were so revered in the battlefront; at a time when all hope was lost, they were the beacon to revive life both physically and spiritually to the soldiers who fought these pointless battles.

This one he was going to win. It would take a long time, but one day, he too would see the sun again.

"You may have to stand on your own, Ed, but you'll never be alone on this journey. Never," Winry vowed, clasping Edward's hand with all of the love that she could muster. He wanted this automail to be a part of him, so he could carry around that promise, and not as some flimsy pocket watch. This promise would comprise him literally.

Without hesitation, his broken automail arm flew out to his mechanic and Edward slipped to the ground until he was kneeling. No amount of pain would stop him from getting this automail attached to him. "Do it, please." She procrastinated for a moment, wondering if he was about to change his mind.

But he was absolute.

"I would say that this is going to hurt like Hell. But you know, we're regular visitors there aren't we, Ed."

And so she took out her equipment pocket and set about to complete her life's finest work. Edward could only watch in wonder. If only for a second, a minute fraction of a second, the pain he felt inside…it subsided into a velvety calm.

He heard the indistinct shuffle of Winry working on his arm, removing the old limb from its port and infusing it with oil like a doctor would put herbal remedies onto a wound. He closed his eyes, lapping at the sunlight. It still burnt. His chest jabbed with each breath and on purpose he started to breathe in harder. The sensation of being stabbed inside out intensified and he focused on that pain. It would help him endure what was to come.

Winry was already detaching the leg from its port. Having nervous impulses down a leg one moment and then it suddenly stopping was as though he was losing his leg all over again. That was why Edward hated automail maintenance. He would have hated to be so vulnerable on the country path with no means to protect his weak frame. Alchemy was not an option. He lacked the energy and capability to care what he liked or disliked. Not when Winry was trying to save his life.

There were two consecutive clicks that followed. The new limbs must have been secured to the ports. Edward knew what was coming next – the connection of his nerves to the mechanisms through his port. His stumps were feeling numb, but his chest was at the point of exploding. Breathe.

Edward clenched his left fist and buried his teeth into his tongue. He hadn't screamed before. How could he in front of Al?

Al.

 _I need your strength now, Al._

An achingly familiar scent wreathed around him and that delicate whisper held neither the whipping breeze of autumn nor the frosty wind's bite of winter. It was as warm as spring. "I'm right here for you, Brother."

Edward's tense body relaxed. "Al…"

His nerves jolted like they were on fire. It coursed through his body. His toes tingled and his head panged as warriors waged war inside of it. His breathing faltered as he only felt the pounding of his ports connecting each wire to nerve, each gram of automail to impulse. Edward flung back his head, blood welling on his tongue and yet he refused to open his eyes. He wanted to stay where he was, with that presence an almost literal part of reality.

"Well done, Brother. I'll see you soon."

 _I love you, Al. I'll see you soon._ He thought the thought as unconsciously as his heart beat.

As quickly as it had started, the connection of his automail was over. He hesitantly squinted, allowing his eyes to open. He had a journey to finish. And for some reason, Edward knew where Winry was taking him. It was not for supplies; this was not a venture for her.

It was for him.

"You're taking me to see mum, Win," Edward said. He could see the cemetery in the horizon, close to where the dipping sun glowed. Beyond that rested the house on the hill. Ever since his family home had crumbled to ashes, it had ceased to be his home.

As the saying went: home is where the heart is.

But where was his heart?

Edward had more than just his morality to find. He had to search for the same fire that he had seen in Winry's eyes. His were hollow.

Grief prickled through him and that shred of hope dissolved into the lost air. One step at a time. He struggled to his feet. He had never walked this quickly on a brand new leg before. And this time he didn't have places to see, people to meet.

Or did he? Perhaps he was trying to find that lost place where his heart resided, and that would take him directly to Al.

And before he knew it, Edward Elric, bathed in the molten fire of the sun, was standing on his own. The cemetery was waiting.

 _Brother…_

* * *

 _I made it! :D This punctuality must be a world record for me. Procrastination is so tempting just a click away..._

 _I'm off to Comic Con tomorrow for the first time, and I'm so excited that I've packed my bag like three times. However, I won't be able to write much this weekend, so there won't be an update on Sunday, I'm afraid. :( We'll be back with more next week on Sunday for sure._

 _Ed is gradually getting stronger, but he has a long journey ahead of him. Thank you for sharing this with us - your support means a lot :)_

 _I'll see you with the next update! ~ Dawn_


	5. Chapter 5

_The sky is so delicate, like a butterfly's wing. If I but touch it, it could shatter into a thousand pieces._

 _I want to become stronger, so I can treasure your gentle smile forever, just like that precious, precious sky._

* * *

Chapter 5

Nearly there. Nearly there. The repetitive and simplistic thought kept Edward moving forward. His ports were aching, but it wasn't a painful ache, rather a dull ache like having a thorn taken out of his palm. He could sense it but chose to take no notice of it; he marvelled the automail's beauty far too much to see any faults with the mechanism, and that included the pain that the attached of the prosthetic limbs entailed with it.

It truly was a beautiful day. The skylarks were shrilling songs from the sparse trees and undergrowth that were found on the rolling pastures. And even if the harvest had come and gone, the world looked peaceful as though the land itself was preparing to hibernate through winter.

The ground beneath his feet was not a river of mud; Resembool had only been witness to the light showers and drizzle much like how uneventful the rural country life in the east could be. What if things had been different…

He had no time to reminisce now. Yet as he drifted out of his reverie, he saw that Winry was already several paces ahead of him, but she had stopped to marvel the world around her too even though she had his old automail limbs in the case hoisted over her shoulder. Edward sighed as he thought about what Winry had said when he had mentioned destroying the limbs.

"How does the arm and leg feel? You shouldn't put too much pressure onto the mechanism too soon, or the joint-" Winry had fretted and Edward had been tempted to roll his eyes. She was behaving like his mother. He had assured her that he was alright before she removed her hands from his left shoulder, allowing him to use his own weight to move the leg one step at a time.

"Are you just going to leave these here?" Winry asked, but the tone in her voice was too superficial…too forced. It was as if she was trying her absolute best to remain calm. Edward turned back to look at her to see her cradling his automail arm. It was wrecked from shoulder to fingertip, the mechanism had almost completely gummed up, the outside coating of the metal was rusting and chipping away like worn nail varnish. The arm was more useful as scrap parts than it was as a whole, battered and broken. And still Winry refused to let it go.

"I don't need them anymore, Win," Edward had added gently, tottering like a toddler towards his mechanic. He held her hands with his metal and flesh ones so her grip on the arm faltered and was about to drop to the floor before her fingers tightened around the useless automail now that its owner had shed it.

"I have to keep the old parts, Ed, for scrap material. Automail doesn't just grow on trees!" she complained, but Winry again sounded too firm. She was putting on a brave face; Edward had known her too long to know that she was trying to stop herself from crying. But I'm not supposed to know that, Ed had silently added in his thoughts.

"It's ok to let them go," Edward murmured watching Winry huddle the limb so. But as he watched her tenderly holding his arm, he realized how precious this must have been to Winry. This was an arm that she had created after staying awake for three solid nights. She had poured her love, determination and craftsmanship into one piece of work, and none of her other pieces could have hoped to rival it. Even though his new arm and leg far outclassed his old prosthetics, that design would always hold a special place in Winry's heart, preserved like a memory.

He had worn this automail when he and Al had been on their quest searching for the Philosopher's Stone. How long ago that felt now; Edward was beginning to understand how naïve he had been hoping that he would succeed in finding a fable, as if conjuring the fantasies of a story book into reality.

Winry needed this automail, like how a victim needed justice. Just like him, she was as delicate as a butterfly, and if he tried to disturb the peace that she had veiled around her, he risked breaking her wings. She wouldn't be able to fly again. And he couldn't let that happen. That veil of peace was Winry's form of grief and Edward admired her strength and resourcefulness in this time when hope seemed not to exist.

"The world is beautiful, isn't it?" Winry had whispered, and her eyes had brimmed with adoration for everything around her. No more words were required to be said; they both knew that this solidarity of silence united them closer than anything literal could have.

The afternoon had passed in amiable silence as a simple run down the hill yawned on for over an hour. Edward felt serene; he wasn't under pressure to be anywhere or to be anyone he didn't want to be. He didn't have to be a hero in Resembool or his previously flamboyant and arrogant self. He could just enjoy the company of Winry, which he had been yearning for so long without realizing that her company was as real to him as a human need – it was as important as eating.

Nearly there. Edward hobbled up to Winry's position at the summit of the hill before they started their swift descent to the graveyard. It was so close, and yet so far away. Edward wasn't thinking about that moment – he knew it was edging closer like the ticking of a clock – but couldn't he enjoy the world if but for a few precious moments with his Win, and hope to forget it all?

That moment…when he would have to conform to reality.

Instead of pushing the thought away, he allowed it to linger in his mind and it had a dulling effect on his senses, as if his mind and body were bracing him for the moment in the future which was approaching.

Without thinking, his left hand slipped into Winry's, and they walked side by side down the hill towards the future. He wouldn't be facing it alone. And for some reason, the thoughts plaguing his mind floated blissfully away. The time passed as quickly as a butterfly's wing beat.

"Ed…we're here," Winry shook Edward's hand with the gentlest of touches and released her grip from him. They were here.

Edward took a pace forward, and realized that Winry was not following him. She was staying behind, as if she felt like her entering the cemetery would be violating his privacy. He called out softly, his breath making smoke conjure into the air, "Come with me, Win."

Winry nodded and stepped cautiously forward, but at Edward's encouragement, she was soon by his side, but she seemed to be shorter than usual. A trivial thought suddenly crossed his mind: was he finally…taller than Winry?

Time really was passing. It had been over ten years since Hohenheim had abandoned them. It had been over ten years since… "Mum…" Edward whispered.

Nobody else was in the cemetery with them. The cold and the wind and the rain had driven people to the sanctuary of the indoors, and even the sturdy farmers hurried through their morning routine outside to return inside. They were outside with the celestial powers above for company. The stars felt a million years away.

His legs automatically took him in one direction. As they passed the rows of headstones, Winry stopped and bowed her head to the ones that belonged to her mother and father. Edward looked down at her but she stared back at him, telling him to keep moving. What would he have done if he was doing this on his own?

 _"_ _But you're never alone, Brother."_

 _I know, Al._

Edward released the faintest hint of a smile, and his pace slowed to taking minute steps forward at a time. He had forgotten flowers for Mum. She had loved them so very much. Forgetting the state of the ground, Edward stopped and knelt in front of Trisha Elric's grave. No words needed to be spoken. Winry's warmth pressed beside him on one shoulder, and another force, as gentle as a feather, pressed against his other side.

Al was right. He was never alone.

He bowed his head and closed his eyes in a respective silence. He wasn't overcome with emotion however; on the contrary, he felt oddly serene again. Edward allowed his mind to dozily wander along the trails of memory. He remembered his mother's lavender scent as the laundry would dry in the summer sun, and he would curl up asleep on her lap, listening to her soothing voice which entranced him into a sleep like a lullaby.

For a second, he was a young boy again caressed with his mother's love.

That house which was a pile of cinders and ash on the hill, a reminder that the memories of that time were long past and shattered. There would be no returning to those summer days of youth. He remained bowed over his mother's grave until his legs had become numb with the cold. Finally, he heard Winry stir next to him.

"They're waiting for me. I have to go back," Edward said under his breath. He knew that Winry would hear him.

Winry clutched his hand again for a moment. "I know this is something that you have to do, Ed. Just make sure that you come home, okay?"

She didn't wait for his response as he turned away from the cemetery like she was fleeing. Edward raised his head to the heavens, wondering if his fragile sky would shatter with the barest touch.

He had made Winry cry…again.

* * *

Den was barking…again. That animal was too obsessed with squirrels or whatever poor woodland creature had strayed within the mighty black and white warrior's path. Usually Den's tail would start wagging more rapidly when a fluffy rodent crossed the Rockbell house, but today, Den was parading about through the house, scaring every wild inhabitant in the whole of Resembool.

Pinako had left the warmth of the fire in the lounge to bask in the brilliant sunshine outside. The wind was chilling and the Sun's glaze was by no means as strong as it had been several months in summer, but it was good enough for Pinako's standards.

She had watched Ed and Winry leave and what her granddaughter was going to give to Ed, since she had been Winry's only confidant. Pinako had been surprised by the certainty in Winry's voice when she had started this project several weeks ago. Winry had found her way to begin recovering.

Pinako was still in shock. It was a shock to see Ed and Al turn up on her doorstep after gallivanting around the country doing God knows what, but at the end of the day, they always returned home. She had the privilege of sharing her home with those boys. Pinako scorned herself at how soft she was becoming and instead focused her attention on Den scrapping on the door. She wouldn't let that dog vandalise the neighbourhood, not when it was so peaceful outside.

Inside the house carried a heavy burden within it, as if the very foundations themselves were depressed. The light that filtered in through the windows was cold and artificial while the roaring fire was stifling to the point where she wanted to choke. And so she had made her stubborn exit to the outdoors, or that would be her excuse if anyone saw her.

Out here she would be closer to the stars, and closer to the ones that she had lost. She was not the wistful type, but today was different. Even if she wasn't going on a personal journey for redemption like Ed and Winry were, she had the ordeal of accepting what had happened.

Accepting? That was the biggest pile of cud that she had thought of. She couldn't accept the fact that a young light to this world had been dimmed and extinguished. She couldn't believe that a pair of doctors, a husband and wife with a young daughter, had been exiled from this world too to face an eternal banishment in the stars. And yet here she was, growing older every second, witnessing all of the hardship her kin had to endure. It seemed cruel that she, a cynical old bat, was still alive.

The hairs on her arms prickled upwards and erect, despite the many layers she had swathed around her; the hottest part of the day had come and gone, waning into a warmth and then cold the closer the sun got to setting. She had been outside for hours, listening to the rustle of grass and moan of wood on her balcony, sitting and musing. The only disturbance was that ridiculous canine barking with the ferocity of a lion.

"To hell with it," Pinako muttered under her breath, and heaved to her feet to yank the door open. With a tongue lolling and muscles flexing, Den shot out of the house and bounced off the balcony to chase the closest item of prey lingering unfortunately too close to the house. It was a grey squirrel. Pinako squinted and saw its fluffy tail streak across a field as Den chased after it. A smile drew across her features. She remembered Al playing with Den like this when Den had been no older than a puppy. Ed and Winry had become bored playing in the fields by the house, and had decided to explore the creek or glen further away. Little Alphonse had been content laughing and joining in with Den's nonsense. He had shrieked with laughter as he had struggled to keep up with the dog, and together they had played until long after the sun had set.

Life carried on, Pinako had to admit, even if Al's spark would mean that life would never possess as much wonder and beauty again.

Suddenly she heard the crunching of mud and a friendly bark from Den signalling the return of Ed and Winry. However, she could only see Winry's blonde hair sailing in the wind. She was growing up to be a fine young woman, and even if she wasn't significantly tall, she couldn't complain next to Pinako. She could hardly believe that this independent figure had once been bundled in shawls and blankets, as helpless as a fox cub without its mother.

Winry bent down to pet Den, whose tail was wagging eagerly to greet a companion, but she quickly picked up and threw a stick, which Den gallivanted away after. She kept her head bent low. Pinako knew what Winry was trying to hide, and she was bloody awful at concealing it. But for the sake of her granddaughter, Pinako vouched for subtlety.

"Where has that midget got to?" Pinako questioned, making an effort to scan the horizon even though she was aware that Ed was not with Winry.

Winry had reached the balcony, and as she climbed the steps, she struggled at the door handle – her gloved hands frozen – before the hatch turned and she stumbled into the cocooned warmth of the hallway. _Rude children._ Pinako thought, but refrained from speaking, and followed the blonde into the house without further questioning.

Without bothering to take off her coat, Winry made her way into the kitchen, dragged out a chair and slumped into it. She was breathing heavily, as if strained by a deeply-set exhaustion. Everyone reflected Winry's expression internally. It was hard, and the pain was as blunt as a knife. Pinako hadn't been able to perform any automail maintenance since Ed had come back home alone – her hands would tremble and quiver, when she had been blessed with the rationality of a scientist, so she could push away that human emotion when her mind was zoned and focused into her work.

Yet this time, she couldn't forget the way she would hear Al clank around the house, or burst out into unexpected laughter at something as trivial as Den chasing their tail. He had kindled this house, if not the world, with a flickering flame of hope, which made the days spent in Resembool more than pleasant and enjoyable as when she had visitors. This was Ed and Al's _home_ , and she cherished the moments that they had stayed.

If only they had chosen to stay…

She was a selfish, selfish woman.

"I had to leave, Granny. I wasn't strong enough…" Winry had started to murmur and her nails were digging into her hair, pulling at the knots imbedded into her roots. She clutched at them with an unyielding force.

Pinako reached into her pocket, and she pulled out the pipe without a second thought. She wandered over to the hob and after fiddling with the contraption for several seconds, the puffs of smoke were billowing from the pipe like magic from a wand. She was listening.

"I thought that I could be there for Ed. He _needs_ us. He _needs_ me. He has always been there to shoulder the burden for me. When I thought that there was nothing else to live for, _he_ gave me a reason to live. He forced me to continue with my work until I had perfected it.

"And Granny, I perfected it. I did it. I actually achieved the impossible. There isn't a single flaw in the automail that I gave to Ed," Winry was rambling but her straining voice began to falter; the doubt and fear was opening like floodgates. The emotion poured out of her chest, and she started to cry in anger, in frustration. "Why did it have to be Al? He could have been there for Ed. He would have been able to comfort him. Why can't I do one simple thing? Why am I so useless!?"

Winry's fist pounded against the table and so the china on top started to wobble precariously. That was the least of her concerns. Pinako leaned one hand on the chair Winry was sitting on. "It wasn't your fault, you stupid child. It wasn't your fault."

Winry trembled and burst out fully into tears. She turned around and hugged Pinako tightly. In turn, Pinako held her crying granddaughter close to her chest, refusing to let go or move away. "I love them both, Granny. I love them so much…"

"I know, my child. Your greatest flaw is your heart of gold," Pinako said soothingly as she brushed a hand through Winry's hair and her gaze rose to look out of the window. "This is something Ed has to do on his own."

 _Be brave, Ed. Be brave and never let go. We have both of your backs forever. God bless you._

* * *

 _More heartbreak ;( sorry about that guys :D_

 _I hope you had a wonderful Bonfire Night/Halloween - the fireworks are better every year._

 _Thank you the support and reviews everyone - I love you all ;)_

 _I'll see you with the next update (hopefully it'll be on Friday back to usual) ~ Dawn_


	6. Chapter 6

_Times passes too quickly. But right now, I can feel the Sun's dying rays on my face, I can hear the wind sing past my ears. It's still so warm._

 _You're right, Al._ _The world is beautiful at sunset._

* * *

Chapter 6

It had been a long day. And sitting at his desk looking out of his window at the solemn sky, he had a gut feeling that many of the days that were going to pass were going to be exactly the same as this one.

There was the customary pile of paperwork situated on his table which had not been completed; dust covered the pile as large as a tower. It could topple over at any moment. He sighed, easing the ache in his head by rubbing his temple lightly and reached over for one of the files. His fountain pen clicked open happily and was prepared to spill ink over the paper in his scrawl of reports about this and about that. The page smelt musty – had he really abandoned his paperwork for this long? Now that he thought about it, it had been over a month since he had sat on his desk.

He longed to be searching that far horizon for the perpetrator who had caused Fullmetal so much grief, a grief so pained like it was a part of Fullmetal's body had been ripped away from him all over again. And damn Roy loved Alphonse for his quiet and gentle self, yet he was still sturdy and as unswayable in his quest to regain his body as Fullmetal had been.

Roy longed to meet the boy without his armour.

And he had, but in the bitterest way possible.

The day had been much like the one it was today, grey, lurking clouds foreboding storm high above. Yet there was no rain falling. The air was still and tense, as if clenching and holding its breath for something. It had mirrored Roy's emotions perfectly. He had dreaded driving in the car to the site of where the Elric brothers had last been spotted, fighting for their lives. Those brothers were reckless, but they became especially so when each other's lives were at risk; they would do anything to protect each other, even if that price was beyond the toll of both Heaven and Hell. They would still pay it. And more.

Roy had insisted on driving. This was something that he had had to do. But in the car, all of the drive Hawkeye was watching him cautiously from the front passenger seat as she polished and reloaded her key weaponry. Havoc and Breda had wanted to come, but he needed his right hand now, in case he couldn't control his own. His hands were shaking feverishly out of spite and nerves and cascading anxiety which was raining down upon him like a bullet storm. He didn't have any idea what was happening, but some instinct inside of him told him that this was not the typical shenanigans that the Elric brothers ran into and seemed to orchestrate at the same time.

This time their lives were in danger and Roy could only grit his teeth, clear his mind and slam his foot on the accelerator, and goddamn pray, pray that he could make it in time. As he stepped out of the car with his ignition gloves ready to snap, the rain had started to fall from the ruminating surge of clouds above.

However, the world was twisted, more twisted than the most devilish work of fiction created. This was reality.

Seeing Al's broken body beside a pool of blood and a huddled Ed weeping next to his brother. Ed had been weeping, screaming, crying and had wrapped Al in his red cloak, so it looked like he was being protected by a blanket of warmth, red to disguise the blood traces which spattered across the ground below.

Roy had stood behind Fullmetal on that sombre day, and his mind had filled with madness. Nothing could describe the anger he felt; he was too numb to feel or account anything else. Nothing could describe the heartbreak he felt for Edward, who had been staring down at Al, whispering into Al's unhearing ear, "It's all my fault, I'm sorry. It's all my _fault..."_

Edward had turned to the two officers, one his superior and one a lower-ranking officer, both adults compared to him. In their work environment, professionalism commanded the conduct of the military. But it was like dignity had melted and been shed from Edward like the rain falling over him. It was also like his shell was cracking. That rigid shell which Fullmetal used to conceal all of his emotions, sturdier than steel, which stopped him from surrendering to the pain, which stopped him from crying and always got him back to standing on his own two feet again. It had cracked. Gone, like a wisp of smoke, or a wisp of a soul.

Edward's eyes were haunted like ghosts…he had the eyes of a killer even if he had killed nobody. Guilt was haunting his heart and was corrupting his heart, shedding that impenetrable shield of emotion as if it was a delicate as glass. Gone.

"It's all my fault...Help him…help him!" Edward had screamed in the face of his superior, huddling Al wrapped in the cloak closer to his chest, as if any warmth could begin to heal his broken heart.

Hawkeye had disappeared from his side at that moment. She had a limit too, as every person had. She had walked close to the border with Hell for a long time as well as if dancing on a threshold which could trigger an explosion. And seeing a bleeding Alphonse and battered Edward was beyond her limit. Hawkeye never cried, but on that day, while she was scouting ahead for the trail of Alphonse's killer, she had shed tears with more fury than the storm raging through the skies above.

Despite Roy's coaxing, Edward would not move. It was as if Edward moved from the site, the truth about Al would be inevitable as he would have to move forward and move away from the last place where Al had been alive. Roy didn't want it to have to be him. He didn't want to break apart this moment for Fullmetal.

Edward could dream that his brother was by his side, if but for a minute more, as the wind sang through their ears and whistled eerie melodies into the late afternoon, where evening would not be far from coming. They were both soaked, but at that moment with Roy standing next to Edward crouched over Al, he didn't believe that he could have another care in the world.

Someone had killed Alphonse, and they were going to _pay._ But at that moment, Edward needed him. He no longer had anyone else of his blood to lean on. Roy couldn't imagine how it must have felt to have a spirit, soul and body torn apart at once.

Was this justice?

The blankets covering Al moved in the wind, revealing the Elric's gentle face, his scraggly-long hair limp in a puddle of rain and blood. His eyes were closed as if he was sleeping. And he was smiling.

 _Why!_ Roy had silently screamed, sending his wrath and emotion to the heavens through relentless snaps of his fingers. The sparks fizzled out before a second had passed, and the ash of his flame alchemy came falling back down to earth. He was panting, but grateful that the sky's rain was a mask to his own rain.

"Al…Al…Al…" was all that Edward could whisper, cracking and wounded. That was when Roy's heart broke.

Roy couldn't believe that a month had passed, and Al was buried beneath the earth. He was no longer outside in the rain with Edward. Fullmetal was now home in Resembool, and Al was tucked up into his bed beneath the earth. Time was passing, playing its wicked game with people's lives as if they were nothing but a trivial matter.

Every day Roy had been attempting to find even the slightest trace of the loose criminal who had robbed more than one person of their light; Edward's light had been extinguished as soon as Al's had been snuffed out too. Every day Roy had been scanning folders of investigation cases, trying to link pattern between the crime scene and the scant evidence that had been collected. Even the slightest thought brought on a tension headache.

His eyes were blotted with weariness, and the words in the file melded together in a haze of exhaustion as his body begged him to crawl into bed and sleep. Hell, coffee had stopped working a long time ago. He couldn't count the sleepless nights he had pulled while lingering in the Investigations office reading cases on criminals which could link to the crime scene. Nothing matched.

He could feel his head droop onto the desk, as if his brain could no longer be supported by his frail body. Everyone at the funeral had been affected – white-washed – both physically and mentally. And Roy's body was showing his toll too.

If Hughes had been here, he would have been able to detect a blood spatter and link it to a killer. This investigation would have been over in an hour, and the limited justice which could be due to Fullmetal could be finally given. Roy was failing however and it wouldn't be too long before he was officially ordered to pass on the case files to the experts. The first load of _his_ paperwork had been brought back to him today.

The funeral was over, and the military always demanded that he put his career before his personal emotion. He was an officer, and he had killed before. He had been hailed as a hero and a monster. Central HQ was expecting him to move forward, keep rising through the ranks, and give both body and soul to the military as he had always done. But this time…he just couldn't surrender.

He had been forced to surrender for Hughes. He had never tracked down the killer, and a full circle had been completed; he had failed again. As he gazed out the window at sunlight glinting through the clouds like shards of glass, as pale as a white could shone the moon, out in the stark daytime. It was becoming full again.

Had a month really passed since that day?

"Sir, I can take care of these," Hawkeye interjected through his thoughts and Roy sat up, watching as Hawkeye entered the office and placed a sloppy cup of coffee onto his desk, droplets being caught by the saucer. He knew it was going to be another late night, and of course Hawkeye was by his side through every one of these, even if it was not demanded by her rank.

Roy was supposed to be detached, but this case was more than personal. It was more than a grudge. He had to solve this case; it was a need to him as real as eating and breathing. Where alchemy had failed them, MI wouldn't. He was not about to surrender yet, otherwise Hughes would start to haunt him from the afterlife. What he would be saying now…

He realized that he was grinning an almost Cheshire smile down at the uncompleted files of paper. Hawkeye was complacently sipping at her own cup of coffee, deep bags set beneath her eyes too. Roy pushed the paperwork due in, and dug into his drawer for some fresh paper. He set it on his desk neatly, twirling his pen with his fingers, "Could you bring them over for me, Hawkeye."

Hawkeye placed her coffee down on her own desk and turned to him, an incredulous but concerned expression painted onto her face. "Are you sure, Sir?"

"Yes." Roy said the word with the certainty of a debater arguing for their passion.

Hawkeye turned to one of the filing cabinets and plucked out a briefcase. She brought it up to the desk and rested it tenderly on the table. Its contents were so precious. Roy input the code to open it up, known only to a selected few, and the case opened.

Letters poured out across his desk like a river of memory. In that briefcase were letters that Al had written to the colonel throughout the brothers' years of travels, logging every detail through nearly five years of endlessly chasing the Philosopher's Stone across Amestris.

Roy had read every letter, and reread them. It was time that Edward read them too.

From those letters alone, Roy caught a snippet of how much Al admired his older brother; to Al, Edward was not only his brother, but also his hero too.

* * *

Winry was safe with Granny. Edward had watched her silhouette fade into the distance like a long-lost shadow mooring over a hill towards home.

But home was also the other way. Home was also on the barren hill where only ash and cinder remained.

Where was home?

Winry had told him to come home. His home had been burnt to the ground by his own hands.

Edward hadn't moved from when Winry had left him. When she had become a speck in the distance, he had turned back to his mother's grave, patted it fondly and stared at the lonely, unoccupied space beside it, as if fate had anticipated the future and left that gap on purpose. But as Al had been an unofficial member of the military and had been the brother of the revered Hero of the People, he had gained a place at the military's cemetery in Central. He should have been laid to rest here in the quiet pastures of Resembool, in the hometown that Al had been so fond of.

Why did it matter? Al wasn't here. Yet these trivialities helped to distract Edward, and it oddly helped to soothe him. His thoughts were wandering to the things that Al adored, and that helped Ed to show a wan smile for a few seconds.

A smile that was desolate and lonely. If Edward's thoughts could have been melodies, they would have been singing a beautiful lullaby which bordered on requiem. They were two different contrasts in music but equally as soothing. He could imagine curling up on his side as a child listening to his mother whistle to the skylarks in the trees above.

However, a cool breeze had started to stir and his teeth were beginning to chatter. His ports were beginning to numb up with the cold despite the sun appearing to be blazing down on the world below. The fire which could not even penetrate through the layer of eternal frost. It was as if his body was unconsciously telling him to go.

 _Goodbye, Mum. I'll be home soon._ Edward bowed his head in revered silence for a moment more, and tucking his automail and flesh hands into his pockets, he didn't look back at the grave glistening in the sunlight.

The trail to the house on the hill was less than half of the journey to Winry's. He had so many memories of running along this trail with Al to and from Winry's, usually several times a day to show off their newest alchemic trick which Winry would applaud them both for. Initially she had been terrified about it, but gradually her fear had lessened the more she saw both of the brothers progress from the rudimentary foundations of the science into the advanced levels, as if they were learning and decoding a lost language. It was something that was nearly impossible for her to understand; a science couldn't be like magic as well.

Edward had never known that he was a prodigy until he had pulled Al's soul back from the void when they had first performed human transmutation. He had not known until he had been put into a life-threatening situation and his ability in alchemy depended whether Al survived or not. Alchemy was equally a curse as it was a blessing, and it was far from being magic like they had naively believed as children. Times had changed.

He hadn't performed alchemy since that day, and the thought of doing so, even the contact of a metal palm against the other made him feel sick to the stomach.

Edward was humming the same tune that his mother had hummed to him when he was younger, much, much younger, when Alphonse had been no older than a baby and Hohenheim was still around. His pace was fast and the cemetery was already a blur in the distance down the hill. All that Edward had to do was turn up the path here…and he was there.

He hummed the lullaby a little louder; he was so familiar with the tune but he didn't remember the words. Perhaps someone would hear him and come to take him away from this arduous journey. What he was doing by returning to the house on the hill was like trying to fit a thousand broken fragments of glass back together in the darkness. It was impossible for him to be rebuilt to be exactly as he was before. Not only had the times changed…but he had changed too.

 _"_ _Nothing can ever stay the same, Brother. We all grow up and learn new things. Those are what make us stronger as people."_

 _It's so like you to be philosophical, Al. And how could I be called a person after I left you behind?_ Al's voice was becoming perpetually clearer, as if he was speaking aloud in reality. Edward just replied with his thoughts; to him, responding to Al was as automatic as breathing. And yet for the first day since the funeral, Al felt even closer to Ed.

Edward's whole body ached at the loss of Al. It had been his fault…

And why could the world carry on? Why could it be so majestic?

Edward had unknowingly trudged up the final dirt path, and he was standing before the broken remains of his house. Sunset bathed over him with a shimmering palette of crimsons, ochres and golds. The sky looked like it was studded with precious jewels: rubies, garnets, topaz. It was majestic, igniting the earth with its celestial embers.

The burnt tree, nothing but cinders, rippled in the sunset's light. The sun's rays seemed to make the broken foundations of his house vanish, and a house stood there again in Edward's mind eye. Laundry was blowing in the breeze and the swing was rocking backwards and forwards, creaking slightly each time it moved. For a moment, it was as if none of _anything_ had happened.

Edward's eyes squinted but he wouldn't let them close; he had to capture this moment, before it disappeared to plunge the world into twilight. His body was shivering in the cold as if his body was a clockwork toy moving after being wound up. He moved his hands to grip and hug his chest, willing for the cold to go away. He wanted the winter inside of him to go away.

He had watched sunsets just like this so many times with Al. This was Al's favourite time of the day. He would get excited to see the celestial bodies completing their heavenly cycle again. To Edward, watching the sunset had been nothing special; he had only partaken in the activity because Al had loved it so much.

Edward wanted to watch the sunset with Al. He wanted Al back.

His arms started to shake. The sun was already slipping away….no…please…it couldn't go…not yet. He needed it!

"Al!"

Why had he come? He was remembering too much.

But how could he choose to _forget_ Al? If he walked away from here, that is what he would be doing. Abandoning his brother.

 _"_ _I'm here, Brother."_

 _Please, Al. I need you, but you're gone. Don't comfort me with your gentle lies anymore. I'll be alright._

 _"_ _You're never alone, Brother."_

 _Sometimes I feel that way though, Al. How selfish can I be?_

"You're never alone, Brother."

Edward's head snapped up. That voice…it was Al's voice. It sounded crystal clear, not sonorous and ringing like armoured Al, but with cadence. The voice of Al in his body. Edward's thoughts adopted what was like a drum beat. Dum dum… or was that his heart pounding inside of his chest. Al's voice sounded real, too real to be imagining things.

 _"_ Don't do this to me, anything but this," Edward whispered. He couldn't bear the thought of losing Al again. It would break him.

"Brother…"

Edward turned around, his eyes moving away from the sunset for a second. He could hear the direction the voice was coming from. It was the voice of a warm day in spring – Al. His eyes widened and his mouth gasped open. It couldn't be real…no…

Stepping forth from the blaze of fire that was the sun, Al tiptoed over the remains of the house, glowing in the evening light like all of the hope in the world had descended down to earth. This Al wasn't young and clueless to the ways of the world. This Al wasn't trapped inside a sleepless, hollow suit of armour. This was Al as he should be, grown-up and _tall._ Far taller than Edward.

The Al that Edward had imagined every night in his dreams after they had got their bodies back. Together. But that couldn't happen? Al was dea…

Edward's mind had suddenly become a battleground of conflicting thoughts; one side told him to wake up from this dream before it could hurt him anymore and the other told him to run forward to grab for Al and hold him and never let go. He wouldn't ever lose Al again, not even from this illusion. He wouldn't ever let Al out of his sight again.

Al tripped over a fragment of a brick and before Edward could react, he was running. Running with every ounce of strength his body and mind possessed. The rest of the world ceased to exist for Ed. He kept moving forward. However, his misjudged his footstep, and collided into Al and both of the brothers fell down to the ground.

The last rays of sunlight were melting down upon them, lighting Al's blond hair to a barley-like gold. Out of any response he could have chosen, Al rolled his eyes and looked up at Edward, a smile warming his face, "How could I leave my stupid brother alone?"

Edward was sure this was a dream. But…for this moment…could he embrace a lie? Could reality just surrender for a moment to fantasy?

That would be enough for him.

* * *

 _All I can say is: Al!_

 _So here it is just in time! Chapter 6 XD I feel that I have neglected writing this week with no updates to anything, but I have half-finished chapters hidden on my laptop somewhere, so expect a few updates this weekend for some of my other stories ;) For this story however, Sunday shall bring with it chapter 7._

 _Thank you for reading and reviewing. I'll see you with the next update! ~ Dawn_


	7. Chapter 7

_I'll be the hero of the story every night. I will battle these demons every night and relive the same nightmare again and again, because I know that soon enough you'll wake me up, Al. You'll be safe._

 _And it would have all just been a bad dream._

* * *

Chapter 7

Seconds could have passed, minutes could have passed, centuries could have passed, and Edward would not have noticed. Edward would not have cared. He didn't.

All that existed in his world was Al; watching Al's eyes close in contentment from the brief warmth from the dying Sun's rays, hearing Al's peaceful breathing rise and fall from his chest with the contentment of a child having sweet dreams, hugging his form close to his heart. And as he pulled Al closer to him, he could listen to his younger brother's heartbeat. That meant more to anything than Edward in the world; Al's world would _never_ be filled with silences anymore. With every second that passed, a shivering sensation tingled along Edward's spine – the heartbeat was a sign of life.

It had to be…it had to be…

Al was like barley. He had been so fragile and like stalks, they could snap under the lightest of touches. As spring melted into summer, as months had melted into years for the brothers, Al had grown mentally; Edward didn't have to see the physical change of his brother. He never saw a hollow suit of armour – he saw his _brother,_ the life-filled soul who seized each day brimming with determination and his gentle compassion which helped him to collect as many stray cats as he could.

But as every summer must wane, the harvest too must come. The barley would be sliced down, or remain as they were now, lifeless dead stalks planted into the earth, breathless mannequins.

Al had pushed Edward off and the two brothers were laying side by side, their hair littered with dirt, smiles brimming across their faces. Here was Al, peaceful and content on the summit of the house on the hill, heart beating, lungs breathing. He had his eyes closed and had one leg curled close to his chest.

And Edward too was at ease. Nothing else mattered. A heavy burden was being lifted from his shoulders which had kept him submerged in grief for what felt like so long. He thought that he was rising, floating, able to breathe and feel the light around him once again. His eyes closed and he hummed quietly, tranquilly. He felt himself submitting to sleep.

Was that going to be robbed away from him?

It had to be…

At that moment, even the light in Edward's world was swallowed into fathomless depths of darkness; the sun had set.

All stories had to come to an end, and even fairy tales – half-completed – had to find their conclusion. That was the way that life was. Edward knew that he was going to have to wake up from this fantasy eventually. He knew that he would have to become a hero over his own conscience; he had to fight and be victorious over his demons every single time, every single night when he would huddle up alone, fighting the surges of panic which would arise in his chest like a relentless army of soldiers coming to drag him back into the realms of Hell.

He had been freed from that place in this one moment. He didn't want to go back there. Not yet. For once, there was no panic in his chest; there was no stabbing pain from grief, as fresh as a gunshot wound, as prominent as a crest of blood etched across his skin. Al was his secret promise of paradise, of a heaven which had long since been lost to Edward. He had had a glimpse of the light.

And in the darkness settling over Resembool, Edward was beginning to feel the warmth radiating from Al, revitalising his mind. His thoughts were now notes of cadence in perfect harmony and synchronisation with his breathing.

Order was being restored, a stability that Edward had been yearning for all of these sleepless nights. Peace of mind came from order, and that came from Al.

The sun had set. The story had ended. Had Al…gone? Was he sinking through his sea of despair again? Would he be victim to the biting winds of winter inside forever, even when summer would be ruling over the skies?

"Are you there, Al?" Edward croaked. He couldn't open his eyes; reality would flood through his senses and blind him. The frosty stars would be appearing in the dawning night sky on a liquid tapestry of navies and greys high above. That was where Al should be, he knew. Al should be watching over the world from a sea of stars above, he knew. Al should not have to even think about the woes and sorrows after all he had endured, he knew.

Al should be at peace. Edward should never have believed that he could meet Al again.

Edward would receive no answer. Al would have faded like the sun and replaced by the eternal twilight that was the overture to night's accompaniment to the moon and stars. One is all and all is one. The first lesson in alchemy that Edward had learnt.

And he was denying it, as he was denying the world.

"I'm sorry, Brother. I have to go."

 _Please no. You can't leave me all alone. Take me with you, stay with me. I'll chain you to me if I have to. You can't-_

"You are more special to me than anyone, Ed. Don't forget that…"

 _Al. Not again. NOT AGAIN!_

"Love for me, Ed…Love the light. It's there, like I am."

Edward's eyes closed, and he was closing them tighter and tighter, as if he hoped that he would wake up to an enthusiastic Al eager to seek out a new lead. Or he would wake up to a philosophical Al, who had found answers star-watching through the lonely nights. Or he would wake up to a sympathetic Al, chastising him for not taking care of his ruffian body enough.

Sometimes he would wake up in Al's armoured grasp where they would huddle together in silence until the haunting nightmares had passed. Every morning…Al was always there.

"I shouldn't have dreamt for this…" Edward whispered, "It was pointless. There was no point caring. But I didn't have any choice! I couldn't help caring…I couldn't help loving you, Al. You're my brother!

"Please let us have a happy ending."

There was no reply because Al was gone. Edward crumbled to the ground even more if that was possible. He wanted to bury himself and forget his woes. Pain exploded through his chest – grief was slicing him to pieces. It was agonising to endure. But he kept laying there, alone on the hill, as memories of that day came surfacing back to his mind. He knew that if he allowed his mind to delve back to that time, he would be lost.

Al had been through so much more than he had. If Al had had that strength, Edward would try to possess a fraction of that too. If he remembered would he be rewarded?

He had one wish. He only hoped that it wasn't too late.

Was it too late to have that happy ending?

* * *

Edward was reluctant to get out of the cosy bed in the hotel room. Grey skies were looming through the gap as he peeked out of the window, and he decided that he much decided the prospect of sleep and proceeded to bury himself deeper beneath the covers. His feet were curled and wrapped around another layer of duvet and his body was luxuriously sprawled across the bed. This was perhaps the only advantage to being shorter than most.

He closed his eyes, settling into rhythmic breathing when the duvet cover was thrown away. Cold instantly met his feet and he wailed in half-conscious protest, "Why did you do that, Al?"

"Good morning to you too, Brother," Al chirruped sarcastically and began to fold the duvet cover, keeping it out of firm reach from Edward. There would be no chance for Edward to fall back asleep _now._

"You really annoy me sometimes, if you didn't know that already," he grumbled as he stretched and released a massive yawn. It was refreshing as though the tiredness was draining away out of him. As he pulled his fingers through his hair, he suddenly remembered. Today was the day that they were finally leaving Central!

The bastard colonel had called them from Pendleton in the west to come back on an errand involving some rogue alchemist. Edward had been given the case files and tossed them out of the window with the bastard watching a moment later. After being threatened that his free licence to the military cafeteria would be revoked and after Al had fetched the sodden files from outside, which had unfortunately landed in a puddle, he had started to scan through the information.

To cut a long story short after an identity issue arose when Mustang had started to doubt about this rogue alchemist's actual existence, the case had been dropped. Thank goodness. Edward hated Central apart from the pooling resources that the library offered and the hotels were not all too bad. It was the feeling of confinement that he hated; while in Central, he was trapped amongst its four walls and there was no escape from his snarky, irritating and self-inflated superior officer. Riding the trains throughout Amestris was exhausting and monotone through the repetitive hours of watching the countryside roll by out of the window. Yet there was still the hint of adventure, like the faintest taste of spice in an otherwise bland dish, which made him quiver with excitement. This time…finally, this time, they could get their bodies back.

There wasn't a second to lose.

Energy poured through him, and he grabbed for the pile of clothes tossed at the end of the bed and started to haul them on, tumbling on the spot before he realized that he was trying to put his shirt on over his feet. Al sat on the bed and laughed to which Edward growled and shot his brother a death glare.

But his mood was elevated – they were finally leaving the bastard and Central behind!

"Come on, Al. We're going to miss the train!" Ed yelled from his pace in front of Al. They were running along the platform to the train that was already departing; the first few carriages had slipped past the platform's threshold already. Al was slowed by the cases he was carrying and also for having to apologise on Ed's behalf for the mess that he had made in the passenger's room.

Edward had thought that it would be convenient to test out an alchemic theory in the newly-opened passenger's room at the train station. That hadn't gone down too well with the manager.

The train was rolling away; he knew that they were going to miss the train, but Edward burst into a sprint anyway. With a cheerful whistle, the train left the platform behind completely, leaving a breathless Edward panting on his knees, his cloak long abandoned draped over his own suitcase.

He turned around to the familiar clattering of Al who stopped just behind Ed. The older Elric tried to grin innocently, but Al's rigid movements were a simple indication to his annoyance at Ed.

"Come on, Al! It's not all bad – that new transmutation delay could be really helpful with-" Edward trailed off when he heard Al sigh and red soul eyes scowling at him.

However, both of the brothers were distracted from their argument by a figure that walked past them at that moment. He was carrying a suitcase and his face was obscured by a hat. He looked conventional, perhaps _too_ conventional. Edward looked over to Al, who nodded in response before he grabbed his case and started running as fast as he could towards the man, knocking them both to the ground.

The hat slid off the man and Edward saw the face and chances of chances – it was the rogue alchemist! While Edward was hastily apologising and helped the man to pick up his belongings, said person reached for their hat and secured it back on their head before doing anything else, like it was their identity that they wanted to protect above all of his other material possessions.

"Thank you, young man," he said before nodding and walking away. Al wandered up to Edward, their previous argument forgotten.

"It's him, isn't it, Ed. Ed?"

"Who is he calling so young and short that I could be mistaken for a three-year old toddler!" Edward raged, his mind already set, "We have to go after him, Al!"

Al held Ed by the shoulder, his voice ringing with authority, "We should leave him alone, Ed. He must be a threat if he's on the colonel's list of rogue alchemists…"

"Are you saying that we're too useless to deal with an alchemist on our own?" Edward taunted, and he knew that Al couldn't refuse that; Al had a level of quiet pride about him too.

"…Fine, Brother. But you're going to clean up any mess you make by yourself this time!"

With Edward's dislike for Central forgotten, they had tracked the alchemist for the rest of the morning into early afternoon. The man in the hat had long left the train station and caught a taxi to which had delivered him to a coffee shop. About an hour later he had hopped into another taxi and was journeying to the outskirts of the northern sector of Central, a district distinguished for its development in science. It was also one of the wealthier areas in Central. Not all criminals lurked in the alleyways of slum districts, Edward realized.

He and Al were squashed into the back of another taxi with the taxi driver sitting comfortably at the front, who had been willing to stalk the car in front for their client after Edward had pulled out the notes from his wallet. They had been in the car for nearly three hours, and Edward was longing for action; his heart was beginning to pound in anticipation.

He was the Fullmetal Alchemist while this rogue was nameless. And if he succeeded with this case, Mustang might give him some extra time off.

Yet what anticipated Edward was that he could have found a Philosopher's Stone. The man had had a necklace hidden by many layers of clothing. It was just a feeling…but usually those feelings were right.

Something churned outside. Edward opened his window and stared up to the clouds that were rumbling up in the skies above. Al was watching the skies too; he had always had an interest in the weather, but it hadn't bothered Edward that much. Nature was temperamental and would do as it pleased.

This sky though…the clouds were especially darkened, almost as if they were swollen to the point of bursting. It had been a long time since Edward had been caught up in a storm, but his first one in a long time was going to cause a ripple in the heavens, as if the sky was anticipating the action that the Elric brothers were going to stir below. Or could it be a sign of something more foreboding to come?

He shook his head adamantly…there was no need to delude himself.

The taxi screeched to a halt all of a sudden, and Edward noticed that the car they had been tailing had come to a halt outside of an obviously abandoned facility. The gates were broken and the building had been left for ivy to take root; it uncannily reminded Edward of the Fifth Laboratory. He had to be on his guard. These places were abandoned and unknown about to keep intruders out, and mostly for good reason.

"You had better go, now. And no matter what you do, do _not_ tell anyone what or where you have been today," Edward said to the taxi driver as he stepped out of the car. A haunted but earnest gaze met his own, and the taxi driver nodded before reversing back quietly the way they had come. This was it.

"Are you ready, Al?" Edward said, but instead of the steadfast reply that he had been expecting and was ritual between the brothers before they entered a fight, Al was silent. His helmet was tilted towards the heavens as the first drizzles of rain started to fall.

"Are you sure we should do this, Ed?" Al asked, not moving from his almost wistful position. His steel armour looked to be a part of the sky. Edward stared uncomfortably down at his automail, rubbing at the joint which was beginning to ache due to the changing air pressure. They could go back. They could catch the evening train and arrive in Resembool for the following evening if they didn't make any stops. Edward was long overdue for his automail maintenance for his arm. It had started to gum up again in the colder weather but he had ignored its signs, of course, because there were more important matters to prioritise.

He hadn't fought with his automail blade in nearly three months. Before then, it hadn't been performing at its optimum due to the wear of the metal. But now it could pose a threat to them. Edward had forgotten to think this through. He was so rash.

Al was right…something was odd. He shivered at the thought of that and also due to the fine drizzle which was falling harder and faster while the clouds swirled ever more relentlessly up above. The sun was nowhere to be seen.

Edward's pulse was quickening and he realized that his entire body was tense, his breathing ragged while becoming increasingly deeper and deeper with each second that passed. He had the uneasy feeling that he was being watched.

He pivoted around on the spot, transmuting his blade in silence. His eyes scanned the building for a flicker of movement.

He forgot about Al.

"No…you can't be…no!" Al's sonorous scream filled the air and Edward didn't look. Edward didn't have to think. He reacted. Releasing a cry, he darted forward with his automail blade glistening, obeying Edward's will as it swung, metal singing in the heavy autumn air, towards its target.

His target leapt back at the last moment from the attack – too agile to be human – but Edward lashed out like the rain falling around him, soaking his bones, not considering the identity of his target. It was the rogue alchemist. He faintly heard his echoing voice in the stillness, and his hand moved like it had a mind of its own.

But his reactions were slowing after a few strikes. His opponent kept dodging his attacks as if he hoped he could tire Edward out. He would never surrender. Yet his automail…

 _Click._ His automail arm dropped dead. It stopped moving and Edward lost all sensation in his hand. His legs buckled and he fell to the ground, staring at his useless automail. It felt like the limb had been detached; he couldn't _sense_ it, it wasn't a part of his body.

Everything happened so quickly.

As lightning rippled across the sky, the opponent appeared out of a shadow and their fist came forcefully down upon Edward. In the light cast from the lightning, Edward caught sight of the malicious grin spread across the alchemist's face. Their features became clearer. This wasn't the rogue alchemist at all; nobody could be as sadistic at that.

This was a creature that scorned humans and spat upon them like dirt. It was Envy.

Edward froze in his shock. But he couldn't surrender. He had people he loved that he needed to protect. Edward crouched forward, bracing his left leg to kick upwards. He would then dart back and transmute something. And he had to tell Al!

"Don't you dare hurt my brother!" Al cried as multiple rock fists pounded against Envy.

Envy didn't flinch. There was a crackle of red alchemic energy. Envy rose unscathed. Envy appeared in the Homunculus' original form, lilac eyes brimming with feverish excitement. A gun was in his hand.

Edward tried to transmute. But his arm was useless. He was useless. Envy was coming for him. He scrambled back. This was it. Thunder bellowed and lightning sparked.

And Al took the blow. Armour shattered into a thousand pieces.

He didn't look anymore. He didn't think anymore. He reacted. He screamed. He slapped his useless automail hand to his left and transmuted.

The world was a blur. There was the Gate. And pain. But Al was there in his body!

 _What are you doing? Run!_

What was Al doing? He was bargaining with Truth. Truth nodded their head. They reached an agreement. Edward screamed, but it was futile. He was being pulled back through the Gate.

 _Don't you dare do this!_

Splinters of armour surrounded him. Pools of blood which didn't belong to him.

 _Not him…don't you dare!_

Envy running, cackling. Edward was holding something…someone. It was warm to the touch.

 _No…Al…_

Al was in Edward's arms, his eyes closed, smiling, and rain was soaking his golden hair.

 _ALPHONSE!_

* * *

"Wake up, Ed! Wake up."

Edward's mind staggered back into consciousness, weary beyond exhaustion. He was shaking and crying uneasily, each tear like Edward was shedding the last scours of heartbreak from his soul. He had done it…he had done it…

He had lost it all.

It was his fault. And there was no denying that fact now, not when the memories were blunt and raw in his mind. Al's death had been his fault and his fault alone. He was worthless, incompetent, nothing, _nothing_ compared to Al. Why had he let that happen to his only brother?

"Wake up, Ed!"

Edward blinked open his eyes. Edward Elric had died beside his brother. A small fragment of what had lived rested in his gaunt body. No more action or hot-headedness. Not even a retort or two. He was just like a hollow suit of armour with a broken heart.

He rubbed his eyes and realized that he was being held. Every muscle in his body hurt as he turned his head. Al was there, actually here.

Had Edward passed through to paradise too?

Edward was still sore all over and he could hear his heart thumping. He was alive.

And Al…

Alphonse was cradling his brother. His eyes were wide with concern with the distinctive shimmer that Al possessed no matter what he looked like. And here he was protecting Edward. That was his one job as the older brother.

But why? Edward was so confused.

"You fell asleep, Brother," Al murmured, answering Edward's unspoken question, "Everything's alright. I promised I would never leave you. It was just a bad dream.

"I'm here to stay…" And Al pressed Edward closer to him.

Edward closed his eyes and listened to that heartbeat, unable to think about anything else apart from that rhythmic beating. He held close to Al like the truth and the nightmare of his past started to trickle away as lightly as dust.

* * *

 _Drama arrives XD It's still sad, and I realize how heavy going this must be with some unanswered questions. But one thing is for certain: I'm going to hunt you down Envy if it's the last thing it takes. This chapter only gives a very brief overview of what happened to Ed and Al, but the rest of the story shall unfold in the next couple of chapters, as well as Al's strange situation!_

 _Thank you for reading and I'll see you with the next update on Sunday! ~ Dawn_


	8. Chapter 8

_A lullaby half-sung, a bag half-packed, a book half-read. These are things which have been taken away from me._

 _The silent night gives me no answer...These are things which can never be whole again._

* * *

Chapter 8

Far in the distance, Edward could see the twinkling of the village lights, as dim as lanterns in the countryside as darkness swamped across the horizon. He had refused to let go of Al. It seemed that for the first time in his life…he was content, almost wistful as he was held by his brother under the Moon's glistening gaze.

He lifted his head to the sky, where twilight was beginning to fade and along with it the last amber traces of the Sun with it. Stars were winking above in the night as if awakening from their daytime slumber, and a thin crescent moon shed its phantom light on the fields beyond, dappling the ground like leaves and unfolding like a ghost of a rose. Its beauty was haunting to witness.

The breeze had settled to nothing. Like Edward…it was content to rest and watch as the rest of the world welcomed the night. He could feel the cold in the tingling of his fingertips; the cold was in the roots of his hair; the cold had stiffened his legs until even pins and needles had faded away; the cold was numbing. The silver light had turned Al's golden hair to equally beautiful silver, its shortly cropped length revealing his closed eyes, his mouth parted open slightly as if he was drinking in the night and its liquid moonlight.

Together the brothers were ghosts silhouetted by the night against the house on the hill.

Edward didn't want to move, although even his human needs were beginning to creep into his thoughts. His stomach would rumble contemplatively. He could hear Al shift his weight as if in mutual agreement. As darkness settled so early at the end of autumn, it still could have been hours before dinner usually was and then the time to settle down to sleep and then the contemplative wait for the sun to rise.

The dark brought with it a sense of dread for Edward; they would be more hours spent alone, awake and thinking of all he could have done differently, of all of the little things he could have done to save Al. If only he had been less selfish. If only he had been more thoughtful. If only they hadn't decided to chase that alchemist…

Memories were creeping back into Edward's mind. Why couldn't it just be a bad dream?

That would be denying the truth. He had denied the truth for all of his life, but if it meant having Al by his side, he would abide by it for once.

"You're here to stay…aren't you, Al?" Edward's voice croaked; he hadn't spoken since he had awoken from the flashback. The words rolled strangely off his tongue like a bitter taste; speaking had a surreal quality to it. He couldn't believe that his soul still possessed a voice to sing with. He pressed closer to Al, closing his eyes and _feeling_ the warmth radiating from his brother's body. He listened to a heart beating and the rumbles of his tummy just like when they were younger, when Al would turn a bright red in embarrassment. And he hoped with all of his soul that Al could hear his unsung melody of how much he meant to him.

Al had a voice that Edward cherished. His brother could sing so eloquently and his audience would revere over the sounds that Alphonse Elric could produce. However, since the day that he had lost his body, he had never sung again. Edward knew that Al yearned to sing if but a tune for a moment; he had heard Al hum sonorously, but the sound would reverberate off his armoured body, and the notes were almost discordant. It was as though Al could only sing when his mind, body and soul were complete once again.

And here he was. It had been five years since Al had slipped into song, where nothing but his soul and heart mattered in the world. Edward suddenly had an overwhelming desire to hear his brother's voice. Perhaps that would prove that this dream was real…and that it was something that he could believe in. The moon continued to shine from above, reflecting its incorporeal touch on the earth's surface.

"Sing for me, Al," Edward asked and he shifted out of Al's touch. He shook off the dirt from his trousers, forgetting that this dirt had once been the place where he had slept and hoped and dreamed to see his mother smile again. Their sweet, sweet mother.

Al's eyes opened and he tilted his head in Edward's direction, as Edward was setting himself beneath the sturdiness of the charred tree's trunk. He leaned back and inhaled deeply, tasting the clear air that only the night could offer. The hill was quiet and calm, reflecting his mind, reflecting the moon. Edward nodded and Al too shook the dirt from his knees. He turned his head in the direction of the graveyard and then to the infinite heavens, offering the spirits of the past a silent prayer.

That was when Edward remembered; the last person who had asked Al to perform...had been their mum.

 _"Sing for us, Alphonse!" Trisha had called, filling her gentle voice into evening air. It was winter and past their bedtime._

 _In the summer, fireflies would be lighting the world with their luminance, but on that day, all that was needed to light up Edward's heart was his mother's smile. He had positioned himself on the swing on his mother's lap. They had rocked backwards and forwards gently under the stars' eternal watch. Al had shuffled out of the house, clinging to an old toy and he was muttering slowly to himself._

 _Edward wanted to hug his little brother there and then. But he knew that this was something for Al to do. Trisha slowed the swing until her feet were scraping the dirt below as she focused her attention on Al. Al had pressed his head close to his teddy, the one that was a present from Granny Pinako and placed it tenderly on the table beside him._

 _He had marched to the peak of the hill, and in his shrill voice like a bird flying and tasting freedom for the first time in his life, he sang. The sound was bliss and the winter's night was silent in admiration to the young golden-haired boy pouring his heart out into a song. Edward had been transfixed the entire time, with his mouth gaping open. He had been in wonder of Al, in_ awe _of his brother for the emotion that he had rooted deep inside of his heart. But he had never told his brother this, out of his older sibling's pride._

"Please, Al. Sing for me…sing for us," Edward smiled as Al looked up his brother. Their golden eyes shining silver met for an instant, one pair determined, one pair terrified, before they both softened. There was no need to explain who the "us" referred to.

Al's foot was rustling the dirt below, and he had his hands held loosely in his pockets, otherwise he would be biting his nails. He had the awful habit of doing that when he was nervous. Edward's vision shimmered, and in an older Al's place he saw a young Al, no older than three, rustling his foot in the dirt below, one hand in his pocket and the other chewing on the rags of his teddy. And he remembered how that little Al had pushed his doubts away and released his heartfelt melody for the heavens to hear.

Edward remembered it as familiarly as he did his mother's touch. It was one of the things engraved into his memory forever, an ever-lasting cadence which held no end as it did beginning. It told the story of the young boy, who despite being forced to follow in his older brother's footsteps, kept pace every step of the way, and often ran on ahead. It told the story of true bravery. That was Al, even if it was but the tiniest fraction of Al, but it was his brother all the same.

The older Al took a hesitant step forward and he removed a hand out of his pocket, and clenched it. Edward could almost imagine him holding their mother's hand etched against the Sky's atlas of constellations shining above. Trisha would have sparkled and laughed and praised her son for his indescribable talents. And she wouldn't have left Edward out.

Al closed his eyes for a final time, and Edward held his breath. And then…

Edward remembered. Al's voice had been wobbly and shaky at first, but then as he delved deeper and deeper into the music, he became more natural, as if the melody was an essence of his soul. A mere fraction of the boy who had clutched at his teddy every night when he thought that nobody else was looking; Edward saw. The boy who had wept and wept tears at the grave; tears that Edward had not been strong enough to shed. The boy who had his existence ripped apart, and that voice became nothing but a wisp of a dream, a wisp of a memory, which threatened to be forgotten; Edward never forgot.

How could he forget…when everything was real. All of it. Denying that would not be denying the truth, or even himself, it would be denying reality. It would be denying the kindness of the Colonel and the team, denying the shoulder of support offered to him by Winry, the sharp words of Pinako. It would be denying Al, and the song he sang.

A song of his life in which he had died. Somehow he was back. Edward didn't think about that, didn't consider the thought. All he cared about was immersing himself into the music, into one of the features which defines his brother.

Edward didn't have to listen to the words. He knew. He knew Al far too well. He observed his brother, with his eyes closed, and whose hands were waving delicately in the empty space in front of him, as if he was an artist painting a canvas. And Edward could almost imagine Trisha whispering words of encouragement into Al's ear, offering the strength that Al needed to continue his melody. He knew that painstaking expression wore into Al's face as he sang in honour of their mother, long gone like the setting of the sun.

But still the brothers continued. Still the brothers' endured.

Edward couldn't suppress the emotion building up inside of him. He rose to his feet, automail groaning in protest as he raced to his brother's side. Starlight glimmered like beacons of hope from a thousand years away. Yet here and now, it was Ed who was going to bring that warmth to Al, as his brother had done for him so many times.

As Edward approached, he stopped inches from Al, who had suddenly quietened down to deliver the last line of his song, almost his soliloquy. Al opened his eyes, prickling with tears as he reached out to hold Edward's automail hand, its silver metal shining in its own light. Al didn't wince from the metal's cold touch; instead, he brought it right over his heart. He looked at Ed in the eye, the tears like living stars, beacons of hope, and beacons of light. Smoke clouds filled the air as Al delivered the last line with crystal clarity.

" _And this time, I'll never leave you alone."_

It had not been about mum this time. A part of it would always be about their mother, but this time…it was for Edward.

Edward threw his arms around Al. Al yelped and squirmed, but he relaxed as Ed started to sob loosely on Al's shoulder. The silent tears from the funeral, the desperate and bitter tears he had shed with Winry, filled with the fraction of love that had been pouring out of Al's song.

He remembered the funeral and feeling as if someone could have shot him there and then. He thought that he was beginning to understand why now. It was because of his brother – he had been closest to his brother there. And having to deal with that loss was like he was being shot himself.

He would tell Al what he had been too afraid to admit when they were both younger. Such a long time ago…

"I love you, Al. Goddamn you little brother. Every time, it's you. You're the one that breaks my heart."

"You're so mean sometimes, Brother…" Al murmured as the moon continued to ascend into the sky, blanketing the world with light that only gentle winter could bring.

"Let's go home."

"Together."

* * *

Winry watched the moon rise from the isolation inside of her bedroom. She had tried to tinker at automail but after realizing that her absent-minded touch was doing more harm than good to her work and after a parading from Granny, she had retired to her bedroom.

It had been left untouched for over a month. She still had clothes strewn across the floor, half-completed books tossed onto her desk with a bookmark wedged between the gap of read and unread pages. Her eyes drifted to the suitcase in the corner of the room. It was her bag that she had started to pack for her surprise visit to see Ed and Al in Central, if and when they had still been there. She had been in the middle of packing when Edward had come stumbling home early, and alone.

Her mind was vacant. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, she was still unsure. All she could do was stare at her suitcase and wonder if there was any way to tell her past self to hurry up and stop worrying about Mr Jones' automail hand and get herself on the train and arrive at Central earlier than anyone had expected. She could have made the repairs to Edward's automail; the repairs which could have saved their lives.

Not only Al had died on that day. A portion of his brother had vanished like birds migrating to Aerugo for winter too the day that Al had left to begin his next journey.

And her suitcase was still only half-packed. Irony of ironies; it was as though her mind was psychic and foretelling the inevitable truth of what calamity awaited her family. Her love…

Mr Jones' automail was still not completed. Every piece of work had had to wait and be put on hold as she had prepared and order the supplies for Ed's automail. To her, that was all that had mattered.

Yet the funeral was over and done, like a completed book, as well as the automail being perfected and attached to the once Fullmetal Alchemist. That had been her sanctuary. Without it, what was she going to do now?

Moonlight was shining through her window, blissfully unaware of the pain her heart was wreathed within. Her insides stabbed when the light touched the suitcase. The methodical part of Winry Rockbell could only stare and watch in horror as grief turned her into a creature that was as delicate as a feather; like Ed, anything could make her snap.

If Al had been buried at home…that would have broken her. But she had pushed away her own doubts to be there for Ed, as the comfort that he needed. That was something only Al could give to him though.

If Al hadn't been buried at home and it had been Winry…would Ed reach out for her the same way that he had reached out for Al?

Selfish. Selfish!

She couldn't help herself. Her body moved with its personally driven will and steered her from the chill of her bedroom to Ed's room, where the door had been left ajar. It was dark inside. She had always been curious and intrigued to find out about the brothers' antics and tales from their journey in the past. She thought she had matured since then, but a part of her would forever be a child. Ever since she had held the letters that Mustang had sent to Ed, she had wanted to find out what they contained.

Grief led to desperation, which led to this. It was a cycle that needed to be broken. But she didn't have the strength to be the one to break it right now. She needed to read those gentle words…she knew that Alphonse had written them…the Colonel had told her…she had to find a part of him to hold onto, just like Ed had had to.

She smiled hopelessly, her fingers clutching at the door handle, as if this would help her fractured mind come to its decision. The door frame started quivering like the uncertainty in his mind; it was better than feeling oblivion. When that was the case, she was no different from those people quietly sleeping beneath the earth outside down the dirt track, at the bottom of this hill. While she had breath in her body and while she had people to protect, she wouldn't allow that to happen to her.

What was there to protect? Her secrets and love had been exposed to the world by heartbreak already.

"Winry!" The harsh tone of Granny echoed throughout the house, "Something's here for you!"

 _For me?_ Winry pondered to herself. Her hand slipped away from the door handle as she raced towards the stairs, thundering down as if her life depended upon it, to retrieve the something labelled for her. An automail part? A bouquet of flowers?

"A letter for you," Granny said as Winry entered the kitchen. Granny was sitting on one of the chairs, typically smoking, which Winry would have argued with her about if this had been an ordinary night. She wasn't sure if she would be able to define anything as ordinary anymore; she had been severed from her old world, just like the day she had lost her parents.

Winry reached out for the letter instinctively. It was slightly creased, but apart from that, it was in good condition. She gasped as she recognised the handwriting of Al addressed to _her._

She both ravenously opened the envelope while trying to damage it as little as possible. It made no sense. She started to read:

 _Hey Win!_

 _I hope everything's ok…um…you would tell us if it wasn't, wouldn't you? Brother pretends that he doesn't care. He does, and you know that he does too._

 _We've just finished chasing another lead. It was a dead end – sometimes it feels like we're running in circles, just like Den chasing their tail!_

 _How is everyone? Please tell them we said hello!_

 _We'll be in Central for the next couple of days. I'll enclose the telephone number of the hotel we're staying at. Who knows…perhaps Ed will get an unexpected phone call. He's been quieter lately, and don't tell him I told you this…but he whispers your name is his sleep. A lot. I think that he's homesick. We both are. And if you see this, then sorry Brother!_

 _Stay safe, Win. Don't leave Resembool…even if you want to go back to Rush Valley. We don't want to see you getting hurt._

 _Bake an apple pie for us – Ed tells me your recipe gets better and better each time! Maybe next time we meet…just maybe…I'll be able to try it too._

 _~ Al_

"You dummy…" Winry choked, reading the last lines of the letter again and again, until they were ingrained into her mind. She let the letter flutter onto the kitchen counter as her body strained against her will. She clenched her hands and clamped her eyes tightly shut, willing this attack of grief to go away.

The date was what had tipped Winry. It was a week before Al had been confirmed dead. _This may have been the last letter he had ever written…for me._

"I wanted…you to try my apple pie too, Al," she whimpered, when her thoughts were interrupted by joyous laughter coming from outside. She moved to the kitchen window and listened out into the night.

"You're the one who mopes, Al!" That was Edward. He was laughing, and he sounded happy, carefree.

"As if! That room is _mine!"_ Edward shouted defensively, but the very core of his tone was teasing and joking.

In the darkness, Ed was walking back up the hill engrossed in a thrilling conversation with someone obscured by shadow to Winry. His head kept turning back as he responded to the mysterious someone. She waited at the window for the light to carve that figure out of shadow. It would be Al coming home and begging for some of her homemade apple pie. She would happily oblige. Everything would be normal again. And nothing would hurt.

Sweet, sweet lies.

"We're home!" Edward called, even though it was Ed, and Ed alone, waving a hand in greeting towards Winry. There was nobody else with him.

* * *

 _I made it! :D Seriously, every week I never expect to finish in time..._

 _Anyway, a huge thank you for everyone supporting this story, your input is_ _invaluable! I look forward to seeing you with the next update on Friday ^^_

 _Also, there is no specific song that I had in mind for what Al sung. If the lyrics match to any song that you know, then it is purely coincidental! I wonder though XD_


	9. Chapter 9

_I'm running through a dark labyrinth; my cries bounce around me like echoes, lost and confused amid the howling wind. The sounds fade into silence, caught in this gale's grasp._

 _I'm calling for you; can you hear me?_

* * *

Chapter 9

Winter's icy breath had frozen him a long time ago. And yet he continued to sit on the bench outside of the military campus, his dark eyes squinting as his world was basked in moonlight. Central's city air had polluted the sky; however, as the smog clouds floated by, he could see the stars peeking out, uttering a shy greeting to the world. The moon shone through it all, always there, always serene.

Smoke clouds danced in front of him with each heavy breath that he took like silver will-o'-wisps that lingered in this reality for only a second before vanishing. His fingers too had become numb, as if they were phantom limbs and no longer attached to his body. And still he sat in quiet, complacent thought, wind rustling his hair as he searched out for the heavens for answers.

The case files in his office were scant and useless – he felt like he was in a battle against this world and that he was destined to lose, as if the world didn't want him to find the answers he was searching for. He had been almost nudged by Hawkeye to let this case go; not completely, but to allow his mind to sleep soundly at night. That wouldn't happen. He had been plagued with nightmares, hearing children crying, ever since that day.

Roy didn't want them to go away for him. He didn't care about his own wellbeing. But if these dreams were as haunting for him as they were, he couldn't imagine the Hell that Edward was being plunged into.

With his eyes, he drew a constellation out of the scant stars. He joined them like a dot to dot, wishing that the clues to the investigation over Al's death were as easy to answer as this. They remained silent. Roy was by no means religious but even he hoped…prayed…that he could ease the pain away from Edward. He had Winry, Pinako, _him_ to lean on, but he would never allow that to happen. Despite all that had happened, Fullmetal would bottle up his own emotion; when he released that emotion, Roy knew that he would be broken. Al wasn't there to fix the pieces anymore.

Roy cursed under his breath. Fullmetal didn't have to go through _this._ There was no word to describe it, but Roy was familiar to the feeling like they were old friends. He had felt _this_ too. And he couldn't bear for history to repeat itself again.

 _How do I help him, Hughes? What do I-_ Roy thought critically, dreaming of the ghostly presence of Hughes pressing into his shoulder, helping the colonel to bear his burdens. He remembered the pictures, the teasing remarks, the earnest expression in which Roy trusted completely.

Hughes.

Roy closed his eyes, feeling his pulse slowing. He clenched his hands as the tug of grief rippled through him, and it drifted away as he thought about how proud Maes would be about his little daughter. Even Hughes' phantom touch was comforting. His best friend would be beside him…forever.

Al was that to Edward. Without Hughes, he had been broken, and he had been close to slipping into a dark place in his mind where there had been no solace, no warmth, and no light. He had been pulled back only by the strongest of wills…Hawkeye. That dark place was not Hell, because at least that place had fire and colour. Imagine a world with greys – no black or whites – nothing concrete existed there. There was only you and the depression. Roy had lacked the ability to feel anything, running on a feverish desire to revenge his friend. The depression had melted into anger, which had shifted into agony. Roy would have resided in the river of Grief if it was not for his team and Fullmetal to an extent. He had admired at how Edward had dodged and refused to become a captive of Grief, and Roy had wondered at how Fullmetal had not become a prisoner in that dark and lonely place which resided in everyone's minds.

Grief was an eternal nightmare, like an ever-lasting night-time and a place where he felt that he would never see the sun rise again.

And now he knew why. It was Alphonse all along. Edward couldn't surrender and wallow in his own guilt because that would be surrendering and failing Al. The younger Elric felt the exact same way about his big brother. That was the essence of the bond, and the reason they were so close. They stopped each other from slipping; they stopped each other from falling. They would always move forward and face their demons…together.

 _What do I do Hughes?_ Roy repeated. He couldn't lose Edward like he had lost Al. He just couldn't…

Roy rubbed his eyes and shifted in his seat at the moon was covered by a swath of cloud. His feet became a blur of shadow to him. He sighed quietly and snapped his fingers, igniting a yellow flame in his palm and let it glow like a lantern amid the winds of winter's melancholy song. The breeze stirred up as if trying to ruin the fire that Roy had brought to life with his transmutation. He suddenly felt very protective of that flame flickering in the breeze and as he stared at the embers shimmering in the night air, he wanted to preserve the light. A golden light as warm as the sun…as bright as Hughes' smile…as bright as Edward's eyes. He couldn't allow that to vanish…he just couldn't…

But still Roy received no answer. His voice called into the endless night and was not even reflected back like an echo. Perhaps he himself was the echo, waiting to receive an answer at moonrise which wouldn't come, no matter how long he waited. He leaned back into the cold bench, every bone in his body protesting against the chill. He didn't care. The colonel held the flames close to his heart.

In his mind's eye, Hughes was taking a picture of the city that overlooked the bench they were sitting on. Hawkeye would be watching Hayate mess around in the snow. Havoc and the others would be enjoying a brandy, while Roy would watch them dizzyingly, holding a glass of Chianti which he swirled slowly in his gloved hands. And Edward would be sleeping beside Al inside his true body. The Elric brothers would be dreaming the sweetest dreams. Roy would catch Riza's eye and they would both watch on and smile contentedly.

Roy's desire of becoming Fuhrer and helping the world was why he had joined the military. But at that moment on the metal bench overlooking Central, his only wish was for that little scene in his head to turn from fantasy into reality.

"How do I help him, Hughes? Please _help me…"_ Roy whispered as bitterly as the breeze. He was bitter at himself. He was so damn _useless._ Over a month of investigating day and night into Alphonse's case and he was still kicking up _dirt._

Roy flinched as the first flake of snow landed on his cheek. He shuddered as another, then another trickled onto his head, painting the landscape drop by drop into a pearly white. Moonlight filtered down from the sky through drifting clouds like sunlight shining through curtains on a blissful summer's morning.

Would the Sun ever feel the same again?

He lowered his head as the teardrops slid down his cheeks, melting with the snow as they collided into the earth below like powder. The fire in his palms dulled to the faintest spark.

 _Oh Roy. Look at you; you're going to make a right mess over my photos of Elicia again! If you're going to cry, don't you dare try to ruin my little daughter's face!_ That was Hughes' voice, ringing in his mind as a memory.

And he would never hear those words again.

Roy cowered over for a few minutes longer. It may have been for hours. Maybe it had been eight in the evening when he had told Hawkeye that he would be going outside? As he watched the moon already beginning to droop like a wilting flower from its zenith point back towards the ground, he suspected that it was past midnight. The snow had stopped, and had only left a flimsy layer of flurry in their wake. Pathetic really.

But it was hauntingly romantic. The snow glistened in the light like dew drops scattered all across the city, like star-studded jewels of diamond. The world would be far more beautiful in Resembool.

Roy lifted his head and his entire body, moving each muscle in turn. It ached.

This was not him. He was not the one to give up. Edward needed him right now. And somewhere in paradise, Alphonse needed him too. Maybe he was watching from that heavenly sanctuary and weeping for his brother. Roy couldn't have that. There were things to do.

Why had he stopped in the first place? To grieve? Hughes and Hawkeye would have slapped him now if they saw him moping. He was Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, a colonel in the Amestrian military commanding hundreds of soldiers for crying out loud.

And here he was… _moping._

 _That's more like my Roy. You are fire. You can be dimmed, but never extinguished._ Hughes' voice again in his mind.

"I'm not your Roy, Hughes. But you are definitely correct," Roy chuckled to himself, smirking for the first time and started to shake off the snow from his ultramarine blue uniform. "This case will not defeat _my_ fire."

Roy's legs spurted with a tingling sensation as blood flowed back through his numb limbs. He stumbled on his first step, but he trudged his way across the sheet of snow and ice in his heavy military boots, leaving a set of footprints in his wake. As he subconsciously went to rub his palms together, he realized that miraculously the flame in his palm was still burning a soft yellow. With a thought and abrupt click of his fingers, the fire flared in his hands like a phoenix reborn. It blazed as rich as molten amber.

The military campus, which had once been a glowing mass of light in the distance, suddenly loomed in front of him with each pace he took closer to the grounds. Unlike the celestial lights shining from the sky, these lights were artificial and lacked any form of beauty. And the campus was drenched in melting snow too, its grey buildings tinted with white. Slush was dripping down from the building's walls like a stream of white mud.

However, Roy's attention was diverted from Central Command as his eyes narrowed in scepticism. He had seen a silhouette in the distance, standing in front of the buildings, in the same blue uniform that he was wearing. His gaze softened as he recognised the honey-gold hair of Hawkeye, who was holding a cup in either hand. She sipped from one of them herself, and as Roy approached her, she passed one into his touch.

Caffeine. It had been too long. As he tilted his head back to quench his addiction to the beverage, his throat choked at the unexpected sweetness that was flowing down his throat. No amount of sugar could completely mask coffee's bitter taste. This wasn't coffee!

"I assume you found what you were looking for, Sir," Hawkeye said indifferently as she gazed into the broad horizon behind Roy. The colonel took this as his cue to walk forward until he was a pace in front of her, and then she stepped behind him, always watching his back.

"I never knew that you had an affinity for cocoa, Hawkeye," Roy replied as haziness settled over his mind. The cocoa was already beginning to relax him.

"I don't, Sir. It's something that you needed," Hawkeye answered as she finished her own piping cup. "We received a phone call about ten minutes ago, Sir…"

"Who from?" Roy suddenly interjected, his expression intense. Was it…

"Winry," Hawkeye confirmed. Roy had reached the entrance to his department, and stamped his feet on the door mat, grateful for the fact that his boots were waterproof. His military jacket billowed behind him almost majestically as he marched up to his office.

He seemed to enter a trance. Roy walked up to his desk, removed the phone from the receiver, dialled a number and waited as each ring buzzed in his ears. He felt like he was wading through a deep and dark river as the world around him melted into nothing. There was only him and the shaky voice which picked up on the fourth ring.

" _Colonel Mustang, is that you?"_

To his subordinates sitting at their desks trying to occupy themselves with work, which they were failing at miserably, they had turned their attention to their superior officer. Roy Mustang was nodding and muttering a word or two down the phone, in a voice too quiet for them to hear. His eyes were blank, as if momentarily glazed with pain, before he shook his head lightly, twirling the phone wire around his fingers. He spoke once more into the speaker and placed the phone back into its holder. The call was over.

"That was Miss Rockbell," Roy started. He gazed over to Hawkeye who blinked once at him as he glanced around to address his team. "We're going to Resembool.

"Havoc, Breda, Falman, Fuery, I trust you to continue with the investigation. Keep me informed of your progress while we're away."

Roy was leaving right now. From what Winry had told him, there was not a second to lose. Edward was slipping further and further into the clutches of that bastard who went by the name of Grief. Edward was as lost as an echo too, unable to reach the destination called happiness. His hands curled around the letter sitting at the centre of his desk, the last letter written to him by Al, the one letter which the colonel had been unable to part with, and the reason he had abruptly left Central Command earlier that evening.

He owed Al a huge debt. Al had been the reason for Edward Elric's unbreakable resolve to save the world around him, saving the lives of so many people. Roy _admired_ Al for his quiet courage. He wasn't as loud and outspoken as Ed, but he truly did have a heart of gold like his older brother.

 _Do you know why I love Elicia so much, Roy? Because she has a heart of gold, and would do her best to help anyone. That's why I love those boys too._

Roy was beginning to realize the truth in what Maes had told him all of those years ago.

And that was only a fraction of why Roy wanted to track down Al's killer and burn them to ash.

"I'm sorry, Al. You'll have to wait for your justice for a little while longer," Roy paused, staring at bleak stars above. Even in the city, they could still twinkle, as if they possessed a spirit fire of their own. "But I'm sure you understand…your brother needs me right now. I'll be there for him; I promise."

* * *

Winry could only step to the side as she watched Ed dart pass her and stomp up the stairs, just like how he used to, up to his bedroom. She called a brief, "Ed…" but the sound was lost like it was in a labyrinth. It was as if it had been rebounded off Edward's wall of happiness which he had carved for himself, one in which he saw Al as still being alive.

She looked out into the horizon, waiting patiently for someone who wouldn't be coming back home. Al wasn't there. Al wasn't _here._

But she was frozen to the core. She stepped lightly back inside of the house, and even though she knew that nobody else would be coming home, she couldn't bear to lock the door. That would be like trying to blot the memory of Al out of her life forever. When she was younger, she would leave the door unlocked for Ed and Al to sneak in at night to get supplies from Granny's workshop to use in their transmutations.

Their alchemy had once been so simplistic and basic, but their talent had unravelled like a spiral and became as natural to them as breathing. They could create anything they saw within their mind's eye.

Winry wished she could perform alchemy. She wished that she could create a vision of serenity for Ed and one she could live in too, where the world wasn't as harsh as it had been to them. Or she could help Ed see reality for what it was and that Al was _gone._ Even thinking that made her shudder is disgust.

She instinctively moved to her workshop and closed the door behind her. When the door was closed, she would not be disturbed. She could become one with her work and forget about the burden of reality for a few precious hours. And yet she didn't want to forget.

Winry loved Ed and Al.

She reached for Al's letter, pressing it close to her and listened to the paper rustle in tune to her beating heart. It sounded like an egg hatching, or a seed birthing a flower of hope.

Winry couldn't break this to Edward all on her own. She needed the help of a creator…an alchemist.

The colonel.

Luckily there was a phone in the corner of her workshop. While holding onto the letter, she paced to the phone, her heart fluttering like a wingbeat. She dialled the number she had memorised by heart. It picked up on the first ring.

" _Colonel Mustang's office speaking."_ A feminine voice had answered, and it didn't belong to the colonel.

"Miss Hawkeye?" Winry asked. She had always held a firm admiration for the Lieutenant, especially by how Riza Hawkeye did not treat her as a child, but as her equal.

 _"_ _Winry? I presume you want to speak to the colonel."_

"Yes…it's about Ed. Is he around?" Winry looked around her workshop, as if expecting the colonel to appear in front of her out of thin air.

 _"_ _Not at the moment. He had some business to attend to…don't worry, he'll be back soon."_

"Okay, I'll wait." Winry said as the phone clicked; the call had ended. If the colonel was working, there was no reason for her to mope and drift around the house like a ghost. She bent down to pick up a wooden box covered in dust, but the label of _Mr Jones_ was clearly imprinted into its side. Winry was a creator too, and she had promises to keep, which was reflected in the automail that she made. This man had come to her asking for a hand, and she was going to build it for him.

Edward had made promises too. He had promised her that he would no longer make her shed tears of sorrow. He had come to her asking her for nothing, and giving her so much in return; he had given her a _purpose_ to carry on living, to create.

She owed him so much.

Winry brushed her hair out of her eyes as she concentrated on perfecting the dynamics of the automail in front of her. There was work to be done.

Even though she and Granny could have revealed the truth to Edward on that night, she knew that for Ed, it would be better if the familiar face of the colonel was here too. He cared for Ed's wellbeing too despite this not being obvious to the older Elric. Al wasn't here…even if Ed believed him to be. Edward was _happy._

And Ed should be allowed to dream…for once.

* * *

"Your room is a complete mess, Brother," was the first thing that Al commented on when Edward had followed his brother into the bedroom. Edward sighed lightly to the growing pile of clothes scattered across the floor and the cobwebs manifesting from the corners of his room, taking hostage of all of his possessions. And Edward hadn't even noticed.

Al's fingers traced over the pile of letters. He whispered fondly, "I remember these."

Edward cocked his head, "The colonel gave them to Win to give to me… Did you really write them, Al?"

"Mmm," Al hummed in response, before peering through the gap out of the window. "They're precious memories.

"Ah, look, Brother! It's snowing!"

Edward hurried over to the window and yanked the curtains open. And true to Al's word, snow was falling all around them. He smiled at the beauty of nature and at how the seasons could change in a single heartbeat.

Winter had arrived at last.

* * *

 _Chapter 9 is here! This chapter needed to move Roy to Resembool (at last!) but Hughes couldn't help but appear in the narrative. Bless you, Maes._

 _Thank you for your support everyone! If you're enjoying this story and would like to leave a review, they're appreciated ^^ And of course, I look forward to seeing you all on Sunday for chapter 10._


	10. Chapter 10

_I'm scared of sleeping._ Don't be scared.

 _The nightmares...they plague me._ Not tonight.

 _What if I cannot escape?_ I'll watch over you.

 _We are brothers._ The Elric brothers.

* * *

Chapter 10

Edward had fallen asleep without any further questions. He didn't want to, and he didn't need to ask any questions to Al. There would be time for that in the morning.

He was dreaming, stepping between the real world and his imaginary one like he was hopping across a pond on lily pads as ripples danced across the water's surface in a mirage of glistening colour. The world was light and hope was that familiar gauze of protection around him while he slept.

He knew that he was dreaming, for the next second, he was standing on the frozen peaks of the Briggs mountain range, sucking in the frigid air and the next; he was standing on the pathway to a busy road in Central, with horns blaring and feet clomping across the roadside, a surreal sense which could never surround him in the waking world. It was like his mind was hopping from place to place in search of the location where he wanted to dream.

All that Edward wanted was to dream of was his tranquil home in Resembool. It wasn't asking for much.

And yet for some reason…fear started to buzz around him, like venom entering his bloodstream. He doubled over, nauseous and retching, as an invisible toll fell over his body. It felt like the very air around him was constricting him inside out. He was freezing as a breeze stirred up from out of nowhere, and he was sweltering in dreaded suspense. Edward's spirit sank; he heard the brewing of clouds above, like God was mixing a potion in the cauldron in the sky.

He didn't want to open his eyes. Every impulse in his body told him to run and wake up. But he stood as rooted as an oak. He wasn't dreaming; he was reliving _the day_ again. It came back to haunt him every night when he miraculously fell asleep. His brain was on a loop, and the same scenario played itself out in his mind's eye every time he became unconscious.

If there was something which could push him to the limit, this was it. And yet, he couldn't call "it" a bad dream – _that day_ was very, very real.

Edward swallowed his trepidation and opened his eyes, lead weights, when his eyes should have opened as easily as tearing seams of cotton. He couldn't blink, but only stare at the stark, solemn sky surrounding him, as sombre as the abandoned buildings pressing in around him. He could hear the wind battering against his coat, a mournful presence, and the dull rattle of a car engine pelting away from the scene as fast as it possibly could. He could feel his pocket watch pressing on his inside pocket and his fingers fumbled over its engravings for a moment, as if it could grant him the assurance that he needed, and knew not to be true.

He wished he could go back, and change something, _anything,_ if it meant that he could save Al's life.

This was where the dream started every time, when he and Al had arrived at the place where they both had died…

Claustrophobia, if it could have been an object, was a chain, which grappled and choked him from out of nowhere. He could hear the rain begin to fall. He could hear himself screaming in vain as Al sacrificed his life for him. He could hear Envy cackling and the colonel collapsing by his side as he held a broken Al. The colonel had sent flames into the air for them to spittle out into ash. Ashes from ashes, dust to dust. Worthless.

And suddenly, his entire body shivered and _stopped._ Everything just…stopped, as if his body had mutually agreed to pause for a moment and think. Edward shuddered as overwhelmingly brilliant warmth showered over his soul. A light was seeping through every particle in his body. He was being whisked away from a dark and lonely place, being whisked away from the nightmare. It was as if he was in the middle of a frozen stream, and suddenly warm water was being poured into his depths. He no longer felt like he was drowning in the cold, but floating beneath the warm afternoon sunshine, caressing him, soothing him.

He could almost imagine himself paddling in a river, with trees dappling the light over his head. The water he was in was crystal clear; all he could hear was the faint gurgling of a brook, the blissful birdsong all that echoed around him. There wasn't a cloud rolling by, only the summer's sun in the late afternoon which would open into evening. His body visibly relaxed, his muscles no longer felt cramped, and he felt ready to snooze on the river bank.

It ended with a gentle touch.

 _Al…_

The vision in his mind flickered again, and his destination changed once again.

And Edward closed his eyes as he slipped into the release of dreams as harmless as butterflies fluttering over the green pastures of Resembool. He was sitting on the hillside, overlooking the entire village, with Al and Win by his side. They were children. Mum was at home baking; Granny was contemplating with her pipe, and Dad was there too, researching secrets Ed couldn't hope to uncover.

He felt Al's head rest on his left shoulder, and Winry's on the other. He held his arms around them and brought them closer to him.

To Edward, _this_ was Heaven.

No more nightmares…

…

He was home at last.

* * *

Alphonse listened and watched as the snow fall out of the window. It fell lightly and delicately like shards of diamond crystallised by the light of the moon, carving an ice field on the world below. It reminded him of hearing a single piano key being pressed with each flake that fell, a single still note filling the air with cadence.

He shuddered. He shouldn't be here to witness these beauties of the world…he had left behind.

He turned around, watching the peaceful rise and fall of Edward's chest as he slept. He had been twitching, as if enveloped in a horrific nightmare. Al didn't have to presume – he just loved his brother too much to see a flicker of movement from Edward and register the enormous pain that he felt right then. Al had rested a hand on Ed's cheek, the quiet assurance, until Ed's breathing had been restored with harmony and he had settled into deeper sleep.

Now no nightmares were disturbing him. Al was…glad.

There were no words to describe the exhilaration of being beside his brother's side, the same as it had always been. And yet a serene calm had settled over him, as calm as the snow falling over the dying grasses outside; he was content to stay like this forever.

But he couldn't.

He blinked and shook his head wearily. There was so much to say, so much to do, before he would leave Ed again forever. And all he wanted was to sit and watch his brother sleep undisturbed through the bitter purgatory that was the night.

Ed would be alright by himself for a moment. Al had to go and do something.

He silently traipsed the distance between the window and the door to Ed's bedroom. He twisted the doorknob, grateful that it didn't squeak in protest, and he walked across the hallway with the grace of a cat, until he reached the door to Winry's bedroom. In reality, the distance was so close, perhaps a couple of paces, but to Al, he felt that he was crossing a gorge, as if so much separated Ed and Win after what had happened to him.

It was his fault that they had had to suffer. And that was why he had to tell her.

Al pressed lightly on the wooden frame, and as soon as the gap was wide enough, he slipped into the depths of Winry's bedroom, a place he had been forbidden to tread in before. Al had expected it to be spotless, but there was a suitcase half-packed in the corner of her room, and random objects hurled across the floor. Many things were broken, clearly snapped on purpose – pencils, dented automail parts, books.

A lump started to rise in Al's throat, which he swallowed away, as his heavy body moved closer to the huddled form of Winry, her blonde hair a splash of silver covering her face.

He saw a letter pressed close to Winry's sleeping side, with tear stains extending along the contents of the paper. She must have cried herself to sleep, holding onto one of the last fragments of Al that she had.

He didn't have to recognise the handwriting to know that it was one of _his_ letters. Al's voice cracked as he finally told her what had been building up deep in the remnants of his heart for so long. He had watched her mourn for him like Ed. Al had watched it all, but he had been powerless to do anything.

Al couldn't repay her. There was nothing equivalent that he could exchange with her. He was just so grateful…for the kindness that she had given to them. Especially now to Ed, who was sleeping soundly so close, yet so far from her. Even if she didn't know how much she was helping Ed, Al had seen how much of an impact she was having.

"I'm sorry, Winry. I'm so, so sorry for what you have had to endure. Even if you cannot forgive me, please…forget. You don't deserve this pain," Al said, stroking her hair tenderly in the moonlight.

Al stared out through the gap in the corner of her window. He still wasn't sure what his bargain with Truth had entailed. He yearned for an answer that could appear so simply out of a book, and he watched, waiting, as if the stars would carve an answer for him. But every matter in alchemy was a riddle on its own, a riddle determined to be solved.

Of one thing he knew…he wasn't alive, but he wasn't dead. He was in an in-between, an observer of this world. A part of him had died, but a part of him was here.

Wasn't he?

And he also knew that Winry could not see him. Al was connected to the Gate. And so alchemists, who were connected to the Gate too, like Edward, would be able to see him. Winry wasn't one of them.

He was a shadow that couldn't ever be brought out into the light.

He clenched his fist and his golden eyes blinked towards the night sky.

Oh how he wished that that was not a part of the Truth. There was still a long way to go. But tomorrow, he and Brother would have to find out. Al wouldn't allow sorrow to ruminate inside of his home for any longer.

* * *

 _This is what broke my heart. Officially._

 _Ed wasn't hallucinating Al. Al was there right from the start. Oh goodness the feels..._

 _I'm sorry for the shorter update, but I didn't want to throw in Roy's POV into this - the brothers definitely took this moment. ^^ Thank you for reading, and I'll see you with the next update ;)_

 _~ Dawn_


	11. Chapter 11

_I was slipping into an abyss where the Sun would never shine. But I can feel your comforting touch, like an anchor to the world of light._

 _Soon I'll be strong enough to stand on my own again, Al. Soon..._

* * *

Chapter 11

A loud noise woke him abruptly from his dreams. It had first been a persistent droning noise at the back of his mind like wasps. He had ignored the sound, but it gradually became louder and louder. He soon realized, as he staggered mentally back into consciousness, that it was not one continuous sound, but individual beats like on a drum. Something was pounding furiously from somewhere in the waking world.

Edward could feel his breathing quicken as he orientated himself to his surroundings, like a creature hesitantly coming out of hibernation. He became aware of the numbing cold of his feet, which had slipped from the blanket warmth of the covers. And his body ached…but he didn't understand why.

He shifted his head to the side and felt neither the feather touch of a pillow nor the springy complaints from the mattress, but his head was pressed against something hard. Actually, his whole body was in an uncomfortable position.

Edward knew he was going to have to open his eyes and arrange the covers so he could sleep like a rock without feeling like he was lying on a rock. He wasn't going to have a full night's sleep after all.

And yet the thumping persisted.

Edward groggily opened his eyes and rubbed the remnants of sleep away from them. He scratched his chin while yawning and was confronted by an empty room of yawning darkness. It seemed that even the moon had set too.

Everything came flooding back into his mind with a similar intensity as the knowledge possessed by the Portal had unravelled inside of his brain. His jaw locked; he dug his automail into his flesh hand, clutching at the metal until it swelled with blood; the pain helped him to blindly focus on reality. He hadn't braced himself for the onslaught of emotion which was racing through his mind, galloping faster than horses. Nightmares…Al…rain …lullabies…coming home at last. So much had happened…and there was still so much that was still to come. His whole mind felt alive with the thrum of energy and adrenalin which was pumping through his veins.

How could he rest? How could he hope to have a peaceful night's sleep when his brother desperately needed him?

Sometimes the nightmares were not the worst part.

Sometimes it was remembering what he had forgotten, lost in dreams, upon waking up in reality that hurt more.

Realizing how weak and defenceless he was while asleep and how much research he could have achieved through the sunless hours was the worst part. Every time it was the worst part.

He shuddered as the wave of memories receded to haunt him for another time.

He reached forwards to pull the covers off his encased body before his hand hit the mattress. It wasn't springy. He gasped as he found himself sprawled out across the floor having fallen out of bed. Looking up to his ceiling, he felt himself shrink inside at how vast the walls were, looming all around him.

Where was Al?

Edward was answered by the sound again. With his senses alert, he cocked his head and listened out for the source of the noise; it was someone pounding at the front door. But who would be coming to them at this time in the night? The Rockbells had established their automail surgery away from the noise of the bustling village square to ensure their patients a peaceful recovery. It would take people from the village too long to come to them in a crisis.

Yet what if the crisis was from a client? Granny and Winry would not turn anyone away in their need of help.

However, a knot started to form in Edward's gut. What if the presence at the door wasn't a person? What if…it had come back to get him?

It was dark. There was neither the gentle light of the moon nor the glow of sunlight to guide him. Even the stars were frozen, hollow shells glittering in the sky.

What if Envy had come back to kill him? What if Envy had come back to take Al away from him again?

The house was silent. But Edward had become acutely aware of the dripping of melting snow draining from the pipes into a gutter; he could hear whispering wind; he could hear the floorboards creak beneath his feet. And the knocking on the front door echoed above them all.

Where was Al?

It felt like he was being engulfed by an abyss that blocked out all rational thought from his mind. That was what fear did, much like a hunted animal. Edward forgot about Winry and Granny asleep in the depths of the house. He was alone. He had to protect Al. They couldn't depend upon anyone else and he was the older brother – _he_ was the one who had to do the protecting. He had to shoulder and burden and he couldn't complain about doing it. Of course he would be willing to do anything for those he loved…but did he have the strength to do that?

He was a coward, as distant from courage as those glittering stars were from the earth.

He shakily rose to his feet and tiptoed across the short gap to the door, pressing his body against the wall. He slinked across the hallway as subtle as an alley cat. Every step was like dragging his entire body and mind through a river of mud.

He had to…protect Al…

Edward clutched at the bannister when he had reached the top of the staircase. He didn't have any forms of defence and alchemy was not an option to consider. He needed to formulate a plan – anything – to keep Envy away from the house. What about the other Homunculi? There had to be at least several others who also bore the Ouroboros mark of the Devil.

He lost his footing and slipped on the first couple of steps. His vision flipped, but his hands were still gripping the bannister while his legs flailed uselessly beneath him. The hallway downstairs was a deluge of shadows, rippling tides of darkness. And Edward had to plunge into his depths. He couldn't do it.

He couldn't not do it.

The pounding on the door sounded louder and closer. Edward flinched to the noise.

Damn he was behaving like a child scared of the dark! A part of him wanted to jump down the rest of the flight of stairs and greet Envy with a punch from his fists, but a part of him wanted to equally cower in a corner and wait until the threat had passed. Dawn was still a long way off and with it hope had vanished too. He was breathing heavily as if he had just completed strenuous activity.

There was a part of him that was Edward Elric. And there was a part of him which was a stranger in his own body. A part of him which had allowed the fear to become a part of his mind. It had arrived with the grief, which had walked into his mind hand in hand ever since _that day._

But Envy was the cause of it; the bomb which had detonated and destroyed everything that Edward had ever lived for. He had justice owed to him, whatever the hell that was.

He had had enough of cowering in fear against the demons inside of his mind. Edward wiped the sweat from his forehead. He was a grizzled veteran in his constant battle against fear. And this time, he wanted to win.

Bunching up his legs, he leapt into the river of shadows. He could feel the air rushing past his ears as he flew, if only for a second. For that second, he wasn't bound by anything. His golden eyes narrowed in determination. He was detached from the strings of reality which kept him bound to the ground. There was still a pounding at the door, which towered in front of him as menacing as the Gate.

However, he could hear the familiar pattering of rain. He could feel a wind beginning to rise. He wasn't in his pyjama top, but was wearing his red cloak. He hadn't worn the red cloak since the day of the funeral. Edward was surrounded by grey buildings with a grey sky backdrop. A storm was brewing. Edward frantically looked from side to side.

Where was Al?

And then he saw. Al…was being stabbed by Envy. Envy was cackling.

Edward screwed his eyes shut, wishing that he could block out the memory.

 _No…I won't let you._ Edward thought before summoning the strength to speak the words: "No…I won't let you."

Edward reacted without thinking. He threw his arms out to form a protective barrier against the phantom enemy.

"I won't let you take him!" Edward cried. He could hear the heavy breathing of a presence in front of him, inches from his face, like a crocodile attracting fish with smiling jaws. He could hear the distinctive movement of arms moving out towards him. It was Envy. He had killed one. He had come to get the other Elric brother.

Edward wouldn't move. He would protect Al until his last breath. But instead of feeling a knife slide in-between his ribs, he felt powerful hands take him by the shoulder. He was pulled closer to that presence. The hands wrapped around his back, and he heard knees click as the presence dropped to the floor. Edward felt himself slip to the ground as well.

He could hear a pounding. But he realized…the sound wasn't coming from the door. It was coming from his heart thumping from its constricted cage inside of his chest cavity. There was no longer a sound at the door.

That meant…the presence had either left…or the door had opened and they were the ones embracing him in the darkness of the hallway. Edward could sense warmth. He buried himself deeper into it, inhaling deeply, as if the warmth could help settle his jittering soul.

"What the hell is going on down here?" Edward could hear Granny thundering down the steps as fast as her cranky body allowed her. She then stopped suddenly, "Oh my goodness, Ed…"

"Ed?" Winry shrieked from the top of the staircase and quickly joined Granny. He could hear her gasp.

Edward sighed, content to stay where he was. Al had protected him. But then he heard Al's voice: "Brother! I'm so sorry…I fell asleep watching Winry…what happened to you?"

Even Alphonse suddenly paused, and he was silent too.

Wait…if Al wasn't holding Edward, then who was?

He slowly opened his eyes, shrinking back against the bright light shining in the hallway which Granny must have turned on. The first thing that caught his eye was the brightest colour of blue he had ever seen. His whole line of vision was filled with blue, like it was smothering him. The pressure against his back lessened as he fidgeted a little, but they still held him firmly.

Edward lifted his gaze to the figure's face. Squinting in the bright light, he saw a kind face looking back at him. Edward was comforted by the round, considerate eyes which met his. Those eyes weren't judging him; they only wanted the pain to leave Edward be for the rest of the night, for the rest of eternity.

Mum?

But as his eyes adjusted to the disorientating brightness, he saw that the jawline was different; the hair colour was honey instead of mousy brown. The eyes were chocolate-coloured instead of a sea-green like mum. This person was not Trisha Elric.

It was Hawkeye wrapping him in her warm embrace. And the firm hand of assurance pressing on his shoulder belonged to Mustang.

"Typical of you to extend an elaborate greeting to us, Fullmetal," the colonel said. His banter made the house feel less threatening, like a stifling pressure was being sifted out of the air.

"You shouldn't have scared me like that, bastard," Edward croaked, the words vanishing into thin air as soon as they left his lips. "Are they safe?"

"They are. You did more than enough Ed…" That was Hawkeye, who stated it as a matter of fact. Edward's tense body started to relax.

They were safe…

Edward hadn't run away. He had been willing to fight.

Perhaps he was coming braver, ever so gradually.

And he wasn't a coward, but brave like his brother.

* * *

Roy had not expected the journey from Central to be so smooth and that he would arrive at the Rockbell's house in Resembool at four in the morning. He had caught the train from Central to East City with his bag packed with piles of his ignition gloves, but he had forgotten everything else. There were matters far more important than forgetting to pack a change of clothes.

The train from East City had been due to depart at seven in the morning, and even though he had been exhausted after getting off the first train, Roy knew he couldn't be delayed, if only for several hours. After the conductor saw a colonel from the Fuhrer's branch in Central needing immediate access to a train to Resembool granted him and Hawkeye exclusive access to the train hours before it was due to depart.

But still, Roy couldn't wait until the morning. His mind was swimming in restlessness. He had a foreboding sense eating away inside, the feeling that time was running out and he was helpless to stop the ticking clock that was Edward's fragile state of mind.

But he hadn't taken the initiative. He had stayed cooped up in Central running into dead ends on this investigation while Fullmetal regressed further into his wall of grief. And it had taken a desperate phone call from his childhood friend to summon Roy to their hometown. It was strange to imagine that the independent Elric brothers and their fiery mechanic could have come from such rural beginnings.

He hadn't gone to Resembool since he had first recruited Ed in the aftermath of Ishval, like only devastation could summon him to the tranquil village.

There was no time to lose.

The train journeys had been a blur between dreamless sleep and one-word conversations with Hawkeye. In the last hour of their train ride to Resembool, he couldn't concentrate, and desperately sipped at coffee and begged for the caffeine to work its silent magic. However, the adrenalin helped his mind to focus, his leg muscles twitching in impatience. But he was beyond the point of exhaustion, and he felt faint like it was an illness that not even caffeine could cure. He reluctantly entered a troubled, hazy sleep where he could dreamt of the pattering of rain and ravens cawing as gunfire sent them wheeling away into the sky.

He had awoken to the sharp call of Hawkeye. Roy had noticed that he could no longer hear the distinct clattering of the train as it slugged along the railway and his body wasn't being jogged as it would when the train would turn a corner. They had arrived. The colonel had glanced over at Hawkeye and she had nodded in response before he led her off the train.

Snow was falling, shivering his body and causing his breath to swirl in front of him like steam.

In Central, he was lucky if he could piece together a constellation in the jigsaw which was the sky. He couldn't believe that he would be able to see the _entire_ network of constellations beaming across the sky like lighthouses shining across oceans. The moon was the colour of a dove's feather over the horizon, barely minutes from setting.

And he was shocked by the pitch black that swamped around him. In Central, the city lights were always shining, as if its inhabitants kept the city alight to fight their fear of the night together as a collective unit.

Here in the countryside, he was strangely missing the constant bustle of Central Command.

His hands slipped into his pocket, where he could feel his pocket watch pressing coldly against his palm and his wallet stuffed full of loose change he never bothered to exchange. And then his fingers brushed over the fabric, and he brought his gloves smoothly out of his pocket. He took one glove and let his right hand wrap around the fabric. Roy clicked his fingers lightly as a thin streak of flame danced about him like a witchlight. His feet matched the pace of Hawkeye's, and together they started on their ascent up the hill…

"We're here," Roy commented as he allowed his light to snuff out. He remembered the path to the house based on his memory of last coming here rather than relying on his sight. The stars were not bright enough to light their path. When his boots came into contact with a squeaky step Roy knew that he was seconds away from the people who needed him the most.

Roy could make out his ghostly reflection from the glass panels of the windows which were like shards of ice.

He pounded on the door. Hawkeye fired him a death glare and he shrugged his shoulders before beginning to tap lightly. But none of the lights in the house turned on. He wanted to call out a greeting to the lightless windows, but _that_ would be disconcerting. Roy's eyes flickered from one window to the next, but there was no way that he could get into the house since all of the windows were closed. It was as though the house spoke the beliefs of the Rockbells and Elrics with this gesture: block the fear out by barring it off from the world.

Let no emotion in and let no emotion out. Bear the weight of reality by yourself until it overwhelmed you.

 _Fullmetal…_ Roy's thoughts whispered, and he started to bang on the door with an intensity he had not felt at four in the morning before. It was like an urge had suddenly dominated his thoughts – and that was to protect Edward and Winry where Al couldn't do that anymore.

There was still no answer. Roy stopped and realized that the door was actually _open._ He scowled as he saw that Hawkeye had bothered to turn the handle of the door and that it had been unlocked from the start. Roy Mustang, the valiant hero, was unable to open a front door; he was off to a brilliant start.

However, the sarcasm melted away from his mind as he entered the hallway to the Rockbell house. The air was heavy and it smelt of mould and grease and the extinguished ash of a fire. But something moved in the corner of his vision, blending into shadow, faster than a bolt of lightning. It was the movement of a terrified and feral animal from up above him. He first thought that it was a fly or a moth, but the house was so dark that the movement could have come from a staircase he couldn't even see.

At that moment, some button was pressed in Roy's mind, some switch pulled, and the caffeine finally kicked in. All of his senses were alert, and his mind was humming with energy. He was a soldier; he knew how to protect his comrades. But his body wasn't braced for that. The air went…still.

Like a lion, Edward Elric pounced in a flash of golden hair from the shadows and landed nimbly in front of the military pair. His eyes were wide with fear, as if he was driven by pure instinct, and he seemed smaller, more vulnerable, than Roy had ever seen him. However when Roy searched those troubled golden pools in a sign of reassurance of comfort, Roy realized that he was not being noticed. Fullmetal was seeing something that nobody else could see, a recluse lost within his heart.

"No…I won't let you." Ed's voice was hardly louder than a whisper. His head was shaking adamantly, as if he was trying to shake off the nightmare.

Fullmetal threw his arms out to the side. His automail prosthetic had a silver glint to it – Edward had been refitted with new automail. And Roy could tell that in the sunlight, the craft put into it would reflect stunningly on all those who saw the limb.

"I won't let you take him!" Edward cried, his expression contorted and strained.

Next to him, Hawkeye moved closer to him and pulled Edward in an embrace. Without thinking, Roy followed her and placed his hands on Edward's shoulders, which were nothing more than skin or bone. They stayed like that, silent except for their slow breathing. He couldn't see the Lieutenant's face, but he saw Ed's. His eyes widened in surprise, but gained clarity to them, as if he knew that he was not alone in his pain.

Roy was so glad that he had come.

* * *

 _Here we are back with a longer update! Illness has paid a visit to me this week and I'm still trying to kick it out, but hopefully in the next couple of days it'll be gone for good. The joys of winter XD_

 _I hope you enjoy this chapter (I loved writing the parental fluff :3) and I'll see you with the next update on Friday. As always, thank you for your support with this story ^^_

 _~ Dawn_


	12. Chapter 12

_My soul is like an echo. It calls out but I'm never sure if I get an answer. I can only hear whispers._

 _I'm flailing out of my depth. But you hold onto me...and make sure I do not fall._

* * *

Chapter 12

Roy thought he would never cease to be amazed.

It wasn't when the hallway lights flared into existence, which seared against his skin and shone brighter than sunlight. It wasn't when he heard the thundering of feet come running down the stairs at a breakneck pace, creating an echo as loud and cavernous as a waterfall. It wasn't when all of the features in the house became clear for his eyes to see – abandoned pieces of automail, books wedged open with a bookmark on a specific page or all of the opened condolence letters and flowers which decorated the house.

It was when he saw Alphonse Elric running down the stairs after Pinako Rockbell and Winry, anxiety splashed across his face.

Roy hadn't seen Al in his real body before; the lifeless, limp form that Edward had cradled on _that day_ did not count. It never would.

This Alphonse…no, he was still the same Alphonse. Roy wouldn't have believed that an emotionless suit of armour could portray so much emotion. As a soul, Roy had come to befriend Alphonse for the steadfast, gentle and determined young man that he was. Al was never outshone by his brother's more flamboyant light.

Al's hair was a similar shade of gold, but slightly lighter and less concentrated than Ed's. While Ed's was a bright gold, Al's was more like a shade of barley, the kind that would fill Resembool in late summer and sway beneath the Sun's stifling heat. His eyes were a rich blend of gold and green that were wide with concern. He was tall with a slender build, and he was wearing a button- up white shirt with navy blue trousers. Of course he towered over his brother.

Roy had a feeling identical to meeting a person he had heard so much about for the first time. He knew Alphonse already, but literally only a fraction of the younger Elric. This meeting was an introduction to Al for Roy.

Al didn't seem to hear Pinako or Winry's cries or see the obvious shock on Roy's face. His focus was solely on his brother. He nodded to himself before turning back the way he had come. He raced back up the stairs and vanished into the gloom, climbing three stairs at a time.

Roy blinked, his hands still pressed on Edward's shoulders, as he mentally stepped out of his reverie.

But realization showered down upon Roy.

This couldn't be real.

He had to be dreaming.

Winry had been on the phone earlier…pleading for Roy's help…she had told him that Edward had been hallucinating about Al…yet here Al was.

He seemed perfectly alive to Roy. But then nobody else had noticed Al, except from Roy.

What the Hell was going on…

As if being pulled by an invisible thread, the colonel was whisked away into a memory, which happened so often these days…

 _He was in a tiny room with white walls, and it was so claustrophobic that he felt he had been boxed up. The room was bare except for a long table that went from door to the opposite wall and an unoccupied chair resting beside it. There was a framed painting of a cornfield in bright hues of sunshine yellow and orange hanging on the back of the door. He was standing compact in a corner, arms crossed, body sagging, by the only window, the only source of escape from the sorrow which pressed around him, much like how the four walls seemed to be shrinking with each second that passed. It was hard to breathe._

 _Roy felt like he was in a prison._

 _He swallowed the bile churning in his stomach. It was sickening to have to do this. He didn't want to push this burden on anybody. But he didn't have a choice. As he thought about it, there were many things which were out of his power. He had believed that he had had the power to save the world from the despair which leeched the land wherever he seemed to tread._

 _But as he lowered his head towards the blanket laid out across the table, covering something – some_ one _– that nobody should have to see, he realized how utterly useless he really was._

 _Edward was the only family member that Roy could have contacted to identify Alphonse's body. Their mother was dead, other relations unheard of and their father long estranged, probably gallivanting in some exotic country by now. Roy knew that his name was Hohenheim, and Roy could feel his soul seethe as he thought about the man who had walked out on his sons' lives, leaving them to scramble out of the depths of Hell alone._

 _Edward should not have had to do this. Roy wasn't sympathising with Ed, he didn't pity him either. There was a deeper understanding between superior and subordinate that Roy could relate to – a pain so deep that it was hard even now to comprehend how he was feeling, thinking and acting. He too had had his shadow, one of his closest companions, robbed away from him, lost out in a sea far beyond his reach. And he couldn't imagine leaving Edward alone with that pain._

 _All that Roy could do was offer the silent support for now, and be the shoulder that he could lean on where he had no father to do that for him._

 _While his mind was lingering thinking about the blond alchemist, Roy heard the faintest tap on the door, before the handle was opened and in stepped the Fullmetal Alchemist in his flaming red cloak._

 _"_ _Hello, Colonel," Edward said. The alchemist had greeted Roy sincerely for the first time in Roy's scattered memory, something that until now Roy had deemed impossible. He smiled wanly at Roy, his gaze averted, before he drifted towards the chair, skirting past the table like a sleepwalker. No he didn't drift…he staggered._

 _Ed sagged into the chair, gripping the wood firmly with his left hand, and Roy could see the veins in his wrist pulsing a dark blue on the surface of the skin. The muscles in his fingers were visible too. It had only been three days, but already Fullmetal resembled a ghost. He moved his hands in front of him, hesitantly, until it touched the edge of the blanket. There his fingers paused for what was a century._

 _And then he looked up at Roy. His eyes were as wide as moons, fear channelling through his body._

 _"_ _Fullmetal…" Roy said hoarsely, his throat dry._

 _"_ _But I'm not anymore…am I, Colonel?" Edward rubbed his automail shoulder loosely and Roy could hear the groan of rusted, unmaintained metal. "I don't want to do this, you know."_

 _Roy bowed his head, completely lost for words. His mind was suddenly as adrift as if he was stumbling through a dark forest; he could barely encapsulate his thoughts into a stream of words. He couldn't believe what he had just heard, but he was anticipating that it would come. Grief twisted a person and stripped them of everything they were; he had endured it._

 _But witnessing it was even worse._

 _Fullmetal breathed in deeply until his left hand moved as lithe as a snake. There was no time for doubt or second chances. This was an obstacle that he had to overcome. He took the blanket in his hands and removed the cover, while outside on the bright autumn day, the faint chorus of birdsong and hazy stream of sunlight were filtering through the window._

 _The younger Elric brother was lying on the table like he was in a gentle sleep. His golden hair was neatly brushed to the side, cropped and short. He had a white button-up shirt on which revealed the faint traces of scars and a hollow frame from years without his real body. And that smile was too innocent, too pure, for this horror to be reality._

 _Edward didn't speak. He merely shrugged off his cloak, lifting it and covering Al with it. He reached out with a hand, as if he wanted to touch his brother, but he refrained from doing so, shaking his head. He then stood up abruptly and departed from the room without looking back._

 _Roy instinctively followed out of the room, uttering a hasty apology to the coroner as he traced Edward's footsteps to the bathroom. He rested his head against the door, and choked as he heard a voice from inside._

 _"_ _How useless am I, Al? I can't even look at you without crying," there was a muffled sound. "I can't even touch you, feel your golden hair, and see your smile._

 _"_ _After the funeral, I'll never wear it again. That stupid cloak. I don't deserve to. I'm not the Fullmetal Alchemist without your strength, Al."_

 _He heard a fist bound against glass followed by the shattering of shards on the ground. That was when the sobbing began. "Don't leave me, Al!"_

So when Roy heard Al leaping down the stairs and saw what he had holding in his hands, his breath was taken away.

He was the only person who understood its significance here. Alphonse was holding the last red cloak that Ed owned. He was bringing the cloak back for his big brother, bringing back hope and fire, to Ed's life.

Like Roy, Al obviously didn't want anything else to be lost to Ed. That was why he could never leave his brother behind.

Roy moved out of the way, gently releasing his grip from Ed's shoulder. He motioned for Hawkeye to follow his suit too. Al took a step forward towards Edward.

Even if he was afraid for now, wasn't everyone at some point in their lifetime? Edward thought that he had changed, but his mind had been warped by grief. It wasn't his fault. What mattered now was that they moved forward…all of them.

In his mind's eye, Roy saw an expansive azure sea painted beneath a cloudless sky. There was no breeze, and he was on a sandy beach, with nothing else to be seen. He squinted in the sunlight, and saw a figure flailing about in the water, obviously out of their depth. However, they were not out of Roy's reach. He dived headfirst into the strong beat of the waves and despite his dislike for the water, he swam towards the figure. His lungs were screaming, his legs dying, but he persevered through the fathomless depths of water. As he approached, the figure blended into two.

They both had golden hair. The Elrics. Ed had his arm draped over his brother's shoulder, and Al was holding both of their weights. If he was a runner, he would have sprinted the final distance that separated him from the brothers. His body was sapped of energy.

He didn't even realize that he had collided into them. Without resting for a second, he started to lead them back to the shore. They wouldn't be lost anymore.

Roy was back in the hallway. Damn his mind never seemed to stop wandering. But perhaps that wasn't a bad thing.

He knew his heart was set in helping the brothers in any way he could. He couldn't hear that sobbing in the bathroom again.

And he didn't know how he knew, but Al really was here. There would be time for him to explain his strange situation. But right now, Ed needed him.

"Here, Brother," Al murmured. He then released his hold on the cloak, and allowed the red fabric to fall onto his shoulders. He dropped to his knees, and brought Ed close to him. "You're my brother. You're Edward Elric…"

Roy finished it off. "You're the Fullmetal Alchemist."

Nothing was ever going to change that.

* * *

 _Surprise! An update what...three days early. This is a celebration for illness recovery and a sudden burst of inspiration. :D_

 _As to why this story seems to be overloaded with updates and the others not so much, I think I need to get at least one of them completed XD_ _Thank you for your patience readers to my other stories, the wait shall not be too long before they will be updated too :)_

 _Next update will be on Friday. Many thanks for reading and I'll see you then! ~ Dawn_


	13. Chapter 13

_A blaze of fire. Unquenchable even by rain, even by memory._

 _See the path that has been set by flame. Now, there is so much to be done._

* * *

Chapter 13

"You're the Fullmetal Alchemist."

Edward hadn't heard those words with such clarity in a very long time. They sounded foreign and jumbled, unconfident and frayed, like two forces in this world which should never collide. In letters…he was addressed by his name or "Fullmetal Alchemist". He felt oddly detached from the name; it represented something he wasn't anymore, and he couldn't go back to those days of chasing for fables. But…when he heard that voice say his name, it resonated with him on a personal level, like mist clearing in the morning sunlight, and something that had been lost was starting to become clearer again.

That voice spoke with a certainty he had been lacking for the past month. No…as he thought about it in his mind, where time didn't have to be of the essence, he had been lacking for at least the past year. He had run into so many dead ends and had to start on his search for the Philosopher's Stone again, that a silent ebbing had begun to make him uncertain; _could_ he ever fulfil his promise to his brother?

However, Edward wouldn't slip into his woes. He had Al to keep him going. Instead of having his spirits deflated, he had worked even more furiously to help Al to get his body back. That was his one desire which people would think that he was foolish for pursuing. They saw him as a child who refused to accept "no" as an answer.

And that made him uncertain. He had started to believe the lies. Al was running out of time…

Edward uttered a silent yelp as he felt the familiar presence of one set of arms leave him to be replaced by unyielding warmth from another embrace. Al. He didn't have to worry anymore. It was about keeping Al safe.

But he had done it; the Elric brothers had defeated Truth three times. They had survived.

"You're the Fullmetal Alchemist."

 _Can I be?_ Edward was pulled deeper as he was embraced in his brother's protection, like a veil which sorrow couldn't penetrate.

 _I said that I wasn't though. I had failed you, Al._ Edward tried to struggle and move himself away from his younger brother. There were things to be dome.

And yet Edward was content just to be the way he was at the moment. Simply…being.

 _I want to stay like this forever with you all. I want the time._

 _I want to be the Fullmetal Alchemist again._

Edward could hear the voice saying his name, not his name by birth, but the name he had earnt through his constant struggle to prove himself against the world. He had glimpsed and walked amongst Hell more than once, sealing a deal with God. He had been thrown into the public eye, the alchemist with the red coat, the Hero of the People. _That_ was the part of him that was the Fullmetal Alchemist. _This_ Edward would have been moping with a pair of stumps, broken and a creature of pity.

He didn't want to fall back to that level. And nobody could ever make him sink. That included if he was deep out at sea and had automail which threatened to drag him down into the ocean's depths.

It wouldn't.

The voice called out to him, as if he was summoning a part of Edward which had been lost and wandering for some time, almost like a hidden persona. Ed realized that he had buried his intrepid and rash self into a box within his sub-conscious, the part of him that was the Fullmetal Alchemist. Perhaps he was beginning to find the Edward Elric that he wanted to become, the one who wasn't fearless, who wasn't defeated, but goddamn _reckless._

"I want to find him," Edward murmured, without comprehending how his river of thoughts had condensed themselves into words. It was that simple. If he could find that bravery locked within his soul somewhere, he would have the strength to be there for Al, and to defeat the nightmares which were as abundant as the flakes of snow drifting along outside.

"You're going to have to be more specific, Fullmetal," that same voice broke through his line of thoughts.

Edward lifted his previously blank gaze to see the black-haired man leaning against the wall with his arms folded. He wore his military coat and his face wore his typical smug, carefree smirk. His eyes were half-closed like a cat. Roy Mustang looked like he didn't have a care in the world on this winter's morning in Resembool. As Edward peered behind the arrogant individual, he saw Hawkeye's blonde hair and shadow ever-present with the colonel. Good. He needed someone to babysit him.

"The first time I've seen you since…" Edward sucked in a deep breath. He suddenly felt extremely _irritated_ and he tried his best to qualm the emotion. "This is how you greet me, ass."

"I wouldn't call your greeting any more sophisticated either, Fullmetal," Roy shrugged his shoulders and pushed himself from his leaning position. He heard several vertebrae in his back crack. Moving was such effort for the man.

"Who the Hell arrives pounding at the door at someone's house at four in the morning!" Edward waved an arm in the air pedantically, feeling exhausted but equally exhilarated. Already the colonel was making him feel more awake and alert than he had been since returning to Resembool; up until now he had imagined himself being in a semi-trance. Or better still, a nightmarish slumber dipped with periods of being awake.

"I am a high-ranking officer of the military, pipsqueak. _That's_ why," Roy asserted and flashed the shining insignia on his shoulders. He had more stars on his uniform than he did common sense.

"Don't call me short!" Edward's very voice knotted with fury and frustration.

"You wanted me to call you something else, didn't you? And I believe that 'pipsqueak' is fitting, don't you think?" Roy took a step forward, and he seemed to gain a sudden interest in the salvia that were placed in a vase on a table by his side, scattered with cards with pictures of sunny fields or cute puppies on them. To Edward, every condolence card was the same.

And even after all of the gardening lectures that Granny had given to them, he barely remembered any of it. However, when he saw Roy touch a petal of the bright red salvia, he laughed as he recollected a fact: this plant was also called "A Blaze of Fire". It was ironic how the Flame Alchemist would be attracted to something which shared his name, too proud to mingle with anyone else. Bastard.

"Yes! No! Just leave me alone, you bastard!" Edward cried and ruffled his hair, with the desperate urge to punch a certain someone in the face. After calming himself with several deep breaths, he continued. "Why are you here anyway…"

"Military business."

"But…"

"You're my subordinate. I have to show that I am caring if I want a promotion."

"But!"

"You resigned, I know," Roy then plucked a single flower from its vase and added in a simpering, sickening voice: "But my Fullmetal Alchemist, the paperwork is a larger stack than you in height. Not too large, but growing at an exponential rate. I'm hearing wonderful tales of shenanigans I wouldn't know about if it wasn't for your dear brother, and the result is me having to bail you out at least a dozen times an hour on each different case I'm receiving…"

"I am not 'your' anything!" Edward refuted, before sighing and collapsing backwards onto his back on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Anything was better than having to look at Roy Mustang's smug expression.

"Shut up, the pair of you!" a voice barked in the early morning, and Edward was grateful that they did not have any neighbours nearby who could have witnessed the ruckus going on this early. Granny Pinako had shoved her way past Edward and was staring up at Roy, and despite her short stature, she was menacing.

The colonel lowered his hand slowly towards the woman and held out the salvia. She sniffed the air disdainfully, but turned back the way she had come and was lost into the darkness that still ruled over the kitchen. Edward heard the distinct running of water, and then heard the flick of a match as the water was put onto the stove to boil.

"What are you useless lumps having?" she called. She wasn't going to ask twice. Now that Edward thought about it, he had only been drinking water, hardly eating any food. Nothing was able to settle in his stomach; nothing wanted to linger inside of his sorrow, and he would retch most of it back up. But right now…he actually fancied something…the foully bitter brew of coffee.

"Coffee, please," both he and the colonel answered simultaneously. They stared at each other, golden eyes entwined with irritation while the bored onyx ones rolled in a full circle.

"Damn you bastard…" Edward said before retreating up the stairs past Winry, who was standing like tableau at the bottom of the stairs, frozen and her mouth, was gaping. She wasn't hurt, just in shock about something.

But he had to get away from the colonel before he snapped again. It was ridiculous how much Mustang had infuriated him. He didn't know that it was possible to loathe someone as much as he loathed that man. Without pausing, he stormed up the stairs, nightmares and rain forgotten. He knew that Al would follow.

Not taking Edward's dramatic cue, the colonel's footsteps shortly followed, clomping like a stampede of horses on the rickety stairs.

* * *

Winry didn't understand what was going on.

There was Ed a moment ago, a huddling heap on the floor with Lieutenant Hawkeye and Colonel Mustang surrounding him. They had then moved away and Winry had blinked before she could see Edward's cloak floating down from nowhere like a dandelion seed and settle on Ed's shoulders. She had blinked again and Edward was crouched on the floor, huddling over his cloak. The air had suddenly felt warm, like the Sun breaking through sheen of cloud, which poured over her soul as gentle rain, a shimmer of light through fractured glass.

It was like an invisible presence was blowing sadness away, and filling her heart instead with hope and light.

She had awoken from a dream just like that. Her sleep, usually tainted and restless, was peaceful and undisturbed. She couldn't hear the howling wind; she didn't feel the bitter cold. She imagined that she was being watched over and guarded by an angel. For a moment, she thought that it could be her parents, or even Al.

It was a pleasant dream to imagine.

There was something magical at work here, especially after a cloak conjured itself from thin air at precisely the right moment when the Colonel had called Ed by his State Alchemist name.

Fullmetal.

Edward had just raced past her to retreat to his bedroom in which the colonel had followed. Winry stood at the bottom of the stairs, fixated in her thoughts. Someone had been _holding_ Ed. Could it have been?

No. She couldn't delude herself anymore with the comfort of fantasy. She had to be strong and embrace reality, no matter how cruel it could be.

She felt the rubbing of warm fur on her leg, and realized that Den had slinked into the hallway, and he was now sitting by Winry's side. She smiled fondly at her canine companion. Den yawned in response, and decided to lie down and close his eyes on the spot.

"You're supposed to be our guard dog, aren't you?" Winry teased at Den, who wagged his tail in response to her gentle tone of voice. "You could have stopped this little fiasco from happening."

And yet the banter which had just passed between the two alchemists was so light-hearted, so _natural,_ which it was like fresh air and spring, had come early. No longer was Edward buried head deep in the winter which ruled his every day. Perhaps a time had come for him to grow.

Perhaps a time had come for them all to heal. Her gaze focused on the salvia still blooming in the height of winter - beauty as crimson.

"I'm glad that you didn't interfere though, Den. I am really glad," Den wagged his tail again and opened a lazy eye in response before he settled into a deeper sleep tucked at the heels of Winry's feet.

* * *

"Why did you follow me, are you here to stalk me or something?" Edward grumbled with his back turned as Roy squeezed into the room. The blond was occupied watching the snow fall as though he was a child mesmerized by the workings of nature, the curtains and windows wide open.

Roy paused at the door and turned to the familiar sound of ruffling paper. His breath was taken away again as he saw Alphonse Elric pick up a letter tenderly, a wave of nostalgia written across his expression.

"Thank you for doing this, Colonel. I know that Brother will read them one day…and understand what they mean," Al said, turning his golden-green gaze to meet Roy's. They were pure and light and alive. They were the eyes of an Elric, but filled with softer hues which distinguished Al from Ed. While the two brothers were completely different, Roy knew how similar they were too. This formed a bond which couldn't hope to be comprehended by words.

Roy didn't know how to reply. He felt his mind stumble and stare at the younger Elric, disorientated like he had hit a caffeine crash (which he may have been). Part of his rational mind was adamant that he was hallucinating, delirious and beyond the point of exhaustion that he was seeing Al.

But when Edward interjected, Roy understood that this scenario was too vivid to be a dream. Al was too real and loved to be imagined. His mind would be a poor substitute for the Alphonse he saw in front of him, considering how Roy didn't know what an older Al looked like in appearance until now; before he could have only guessed the appearance from old family photographs and the colour of Al's personality.

Blue – as expansive as the sky and the freedom it granted, as glittering as a mountain stream. Green – the colour of rejuvenation and new growth. Gold – a honey colour that reminded Roy of innocence and youth.

"You don't owe anything to that bastard, Al," Edward lifted himself up from the bed and pressed his hand against the window. His hand left a frosty impression on the window, like a story that would ingrain itself into legend, but would soon fade into myth and then fable and then mystery. That touch could never be preserved. Time would always move on. Change was inevitable.

"How very considerate of you," Roy replied while Al dropped the letters he was holding, and moved closer to stand by the door next to Roy.

"Winry and Granny can't see me. A lot has happened, Sir, and I'm still bound to the Gate. As you're an alchemist, you can see me. Ed doesn't know about the others yet. I don't know how to tell him. Could you…"

"Of course, Al. At dawn," Roy assented. How he would tell that to Edward…he didn't know. But the Elric would have the strength to find the answer. Roy had more than faith in his pipsqueak subordinate.

"You barged in and ruined everything, ass. I have more important things on my mind," Edward continued.

And there wasn't a hesitation of doubt in Roy to what he was referring to.

 _I want to find him._ Edward's seemingly random statement suddenly gained crystal clarity to Roy. The Fullmetal Alchemist was a hero, a prodigy, and had carved a legend for himself before many alchemists could successfully channel the energy to complete a transmutation at the same age. But Fullmetal was Edward Elric, a human, flamboyant and fiery, determined and reckless.

Ever since Al had gone, that life had died, or been locked away where it would never be found again.

But with Al here, Edward would be able to find his strength again; he was struggling to find where he had buried it though. So much had been supressed with Al gone. His strength was fuelled by his desire and determination to protect his younger brother. It was those who could arise to the challenge of the ever-changing world who would leave their lasting impression in the minds of others, like Ed had done for Roy.

That was how a legend was born.

"I want to find him, the Fullmetal Alchemist. But then I'll find Envy."

A serious atmosphere settled in the air. Silence reigned as each individual in the room was buried deep in thought.

Roy could visibly see the strain that Edward was under. He was muttering under his breath in an inaudible tone like he was delirious himself from a fever. Inside, a war was waging. One side of fear and nightmares which refused to be expelled without a fight, while the other was the growing strength of Fullmetal's mind, healing back together ever so gradually. He had to keep fighting. He had to try and prevent his mind from constantly slipping back into a strand of memory, a place where grief could take him hostage and break him apart.

Edward's automail foot slammed into the floor, causing dust to seep from the cracks on the floor from its impact. Its silver glint was mystical in the eternal night of winter, his eyes sealed shut.

"Oh no, you won't, Brother," Al's voice was as blunt as a blade as it almost reverberated around the bedroom.

Still with his eyes closed, confusion settled over the older Elric, "What do you mean, Al?"

"Just what I said, Brother. You're not doing this alone," Al took a deep breath. If he had been in the suit of armour, those soulfire eyes would have been blazing with the passion that quivered in his tone like flames. "I watched you at my funeral. I watched as your heart broke apart. And I couldn't do anything but _watch_. We made a promise, Brother, to get our bodies back together. I intend to keep it no matter what."

"We've been waiting long enough. Envy…"

"No, Ed. Your body needs time to heal…you had automail fitted less than a day ago!"

"How reckless are you, Fullmetal?" Roy commented in which he was rewarded with an ugly glare and scowl from the shorter alchemist.

"As reckless as I want to be. After all, I'm the Fullmetal Alchemist," Edward's eyes opened, filled with a fire and determination set in their golden depths, tinged with a softer affection that Roy hadn't noticed before as he looked at his brother with emotions indescribable with words. Their bond of brotherhood was deeper than the blood that flowed through their veins. "And I am far from finished with what has to be done."

 _He's coming back…_

Roy's face widened into a smirk.

 _God help us all._

* * *

 _He's nearly backkkkkk! :D We all knew you could do it, Ed! But remember, he is coming back, and not completely recovered yet. But I think we all deserved a break from the never-ending angst XD_

 _In terms of the story, we have a couple more chapters in Resembool and then Ed is stepping back out into the world. He has Envy to trace..._

 _No more from me now. As always, thank you for your wonderful support ^^ I'll respond to your lovely reviews tomorrow those who reviewed._

 _I'll see you on Sunday with a sunrise scene (which will probably be very emotional). Sorry about that XD_

 _~ Dawn_


	14. Chapter 14

_One step at a time. Look and listen, feel the warmth of the light. Don't rush - the world will be waiting for you._

 _Dawn will always come. You too will rise again._

* * *

Chapter 14

Roy had formulated his plan and was going to tell it to Hawkeye, and all within the hour. He hadn't expected for the ideas to flow so freely from his mind like a writer with a pen, but they had done. Perhaps it had been through Al's silent desperation for Edward to understand the situation, if it could be described as that, and Roy's determination to repay Ed back for the inspiration he had given to him what felt like a long time ago.

As if summoned by the bitter fragrance of coffee brewing in the kitchen, Roy left the brothers in peace and clomped down the stairs to see Hawkeye standing by the vase of salvias with two cups of coffee in her hand. Roy sighed in weary relief and took a mug off of her and sipped gratefully, the milk froth tickling his lips as he drank the burning essence, letting the warmth seep into his body. Hawkeye blew lightly at her mug, swirling the contents with a spoon.

"Hawkeye, I have a task for you," the colonel started abruptly, but from Hawkeye's mild expression, he knew that she had been waiting for her orders. She waited in silence as he continued, "you have to be a distraction."

"That is a little vague, even for you, Sir," she answered coolly and placed her mug down next to the vase. "When do you need me?"

"Unless I'm hallucinating too, which I highly doubt to be, and then this is of the upmost importance. Early this morning. There is something I have to do first…" Roy said, and realized that he sounded _both_ vague and borderline crazy.

"You saw Alphonse, didn't you?" she replied quizzically, her expression curious. Roy slumped against the wall, thinking that he had been discrete; had it been that obvious?

Surprisingly, a faint smile crossed her features, "I've known you for a long time, Sir." The softer expression vanished a moment later as she saluted to the colonel as Pinako Rockbell and her granddaughter left the caffeine-infested kitchen, standing in the hallway watching the military personnel somewhat withdrawn and suspiciously.

"It's too late now to get a couple of hours of sleep. There is a bedroom we have vacant which we usually keep for patients, but considering how the business is closed to customers at the moment, they are yours if you want them," Pinako yawned snappishly and dismissively, before retreating into another room. Winry looked at Roy for another second as she followed the stubborn, short woman.

"I have to tell Edward something. It's what Alphonse wants, and I know it is soon, but it is for the best," Roy picked up another salvia from its vase, feeling the petals' waxy touch. An image of the brothers burned in his mind followed by the usually vivacious Winry Rockbell, who seemed so dormant and out of character from what Roy had last seen of her. He knew that his Lieutenant was fond of her too.

"This is for her as well, Hawkeye," Roy stated in a lower voice, "Here is what we're going to do."

* * *

Miraculously, Edward was able to sleep even after all of the commotion, even if it was only for a few hours. His head had slipped onto the pillow and the next moment he was being shaken back into consciousness. He mumbled discernibly for Al to leave him alone, but as he rubbed his eyes and blinked away the hazy comfort of sleep, he realized that the colonel was staring at him in the face.

Ed's mood dampened.

"What do you want?" he grumbled, tilting his head to either side in the hope that it may wake him up. The night's events were as faint as a dream too; had it really happened? Was the colonel here? Or was it Envy, waiting and lurking in the shadows for the opportunity to hurt Al.

He shook his head and gripped onto the sheets fumbled loosely around his feet. The pain in his palms helped his mind to gain clarity and focus. Every second, when he thought that he was beginning to overcome his demons, he would be plunged into the similar routine of automatic fear about Envy, like he was sitting on a rollercoaster following the same route every single time.

That only meant that each time he had to fight harder to grapple free from the nightmares.

However, he anxiously scanned the bedroom, his mind faintly calling for Al until he saw his brother's delicate form slumped on a chair, his limbs splayed across the table, his mouth gaping open. He was breathing heavily, but still quietly enough not to be snoring. Edward's younger brother was sound asleep. And Edward felt serene, imagining he could watch his brother sleeping from sunrise until sunset and not notice that time had passed.

But there was the problem, the _inconvenience,_ of the black-haired man looming above him, waiting as if he was bored out of his mind. Mustang was standing looking out of the window, his foot tapping impatiently on the floor while he checked his watch, pushing his sleeve up to look at the contraption.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Edward muttered. He had dreamt that Mustang had snapped him out of his vision last night and calmed him down. Edward was unaccustomed to the compassion from the man and shuddered at the unusualness of the situation. He had rarely shown his more vulnerable side to the colonel. Embarrassment caused his cheeks to flush red. But that must have been a dream…

And here was the man of the hour, who muttered something abruptly under his breath and hissed into Edward's ear. "You're coming with me _now._ "

Edward barely had time to orientate himself as he was dragged unwillingly from the bedroom with Al resting peacefully. What Edward missed was Al opening one eye as he watched them leave the room, a smile warming his features. Al turned around on the chair, and turned to watch the lightening world past through the sheen of glass separating him from the outside.

Meanwhile, Edward was being taken down the stairs…out through the front door…around to the side of the house…where there was a ladder waiting. He cursed under his breath as his bare right foot dipped into newly-fallen snow. The port on his left leg had become numb too.

 _A ladder?_ His thoughts inquisitively questioned.

Roy gestured for Edward to advance up the ladder. With curiosity getting the better of him, and knowing that his brother was safe, Edward shrugged his shoulders and advanced up the ladder, hurrying up so he didn't have the chance to worry about falling. He had fallen too many times in his dreams, like angel plummeting down from Heaven into the reaches of Hell.

Behind him, Roy was a silent presence several steps below. Even though Edward would never admit to it, it was comforting to know that someone was there to catch him if he fell.

But it was more likely that the bastard would watch him slip and he would be laughed at by the colonel in a sodden heap of snow on the ground.

Edward's hand came into contact with a roof tile, and he hauled his body over the last hurdle and lay with his arms and legs stretched on a rooftop. He was suddenly thrown into déjà vu of lying in this exact position after being admitted to hospital and having a fight with Al. Had it been after the fight at the Fifth Laboratory? He remembered, of course, but so much had happened since then, and the events were a jumble in his mind.

"Well, why did you drag me up here, Colonel Ass," Edward hummed, lifting his leg into the air with his eyes closed.

"Looking may help, Fullmetal. There is a reason why I dragged you away from your precious nap," Roy exclaimed and Edward could hear him secure the ladder with what must have been a piece of rope.

So Edward opened his eyes. On the ground, he had been too focused on his frozen feet and following Roy to care to notice his surroundings. But now he did.

He gasped as he stared at the world, the _entire_ world, from the rooftop. The fields were a blanket of snow, as soft as cotton, and had the texture of feather pillows and fluffy clouds. The woodland close by looked like herbaceous fingers reaching out to the sky, which was stark and blue. Stars frozen rigid throughout the night were fading away, leaving a milky-white trace in their path so they resembled comets. They were almost drooling across the sky, trying to escape from the bright light claiming the heavens for its throne.

Hot pinks and marigold oranges and reds dominated the eastern horizon. Not a single cloud traced the sky. It looked like a raging inferno, with streaks of light spitting forth from the central mass of bright colour from where the Sun would appear from across the horizon at any moment. Dawn was inching closer every second, and each second that passed, the darkness was banished further and further away. The Sun was firing a bloody arrow wrought in crimson into the sky and no other celestial power could stop it in its path.

It was beautiful.

"I've never seen anything like this before…" Edward whispered in equal awe and amazement. Roy looked at him with an expression of smug amusement.

"I hope this is reason enough for you, Fullmetal," he answered and brushed a hand through his dark hair. The impatience had melted away from the man as rapidly as the night was fading into wisps of memory, Edward noticed.

Edward thought of a tart response, but did not say it. He listened in silence to the calling of a single skylark, which filled with the song of birds, opening and filling the world with invisible colour like a flower blossoming. Perhaps things really could grow and flourish in winter too, even if it was something that he couldn't see.

He could smell the bitter freshness of winter and snow filled with the scent of steaming coffee and the crispiness of pastry being cooked followed by the sour scent of apples. Winry. Home.

And then he was blinded as the Sun rose, spreading its golden light like spindly amber hands welcoming the world into its warm embrace.

A crown or a halo of dawn light caressed his golden hair, flooding him with contentment and the promise that he would be safe as long as the Sun continued to shine. And this was only the start of a chilling winter's day.

"Why did you bring me up here?" Edward asked his tone steady and relaxed.

"Your brother." Roy said and Edward watched as Roy watched the sunrise with an expression of nostalgia and intrepidity. Unusual…

"Al? Why are you dragging Al into this, ass…" Edward mumbled, but he was notably more curious than insulting. For now anyway.

"Look at the Sun, Ed. What do you see?" the colonel's voice was completely level. After rolling his eyes and followed the colonel's gaze, he too started to squint towards the blinding aurous light.

Edward realized that he had been watching the sunrise without thinking, as if he could appreciate the beauty of it for what it was, a picturesque rural scene. He hadn't considered the science about what caused the lateness of the Sun's winter rising, like hidden gears and mechanisms resting below the earth, below the visible eye.

He had seen something for what it was, and not what it had to be. He saw the Sun as escapism from the reality that was swamped in darkness. Watching the colonel was like watching a mirrored expression – did he feel the same way about nature? To let it be what it wanted to be, a perfectly painted canvas of nature.

 _One is all, all is one._ The words of his teacher echoed around his mind like a fracture. Could this have been what she also meant too?

And a bird, likely a starling, fluttered past him with a brown wingbeat, soaring up into that infinite sky. Here was freedom, away from the pain and chains which tugged him from the inside when he was touching the world below.

He had been a bird once, young and naïve, before he had flown too close to the Sun and burnt to cinders. Why was he here – there were things to be done. He had been young once, but that time had passed, a story long completed.

A frown crossed his face. Roy echoed his thoughts and translated them into words: "You feel like you're wasting time seeing something you have seen a thousand times. There are places to be, people to meet, leads to follow. You're always running out of time.

"And you feel guilty for watching the sunrise when you could be getting your brother's body back."

Edward jolted. He felt like he was on stepping stones in the middle of a large river, with a swaying, relentless current, in very dangerous territory. It was an unconscious reaction. "But I got Al's body back…"

"So why do you feel like you haven't?" Roy asked firmly. This was where the colonel had wanted to lead the conversation from the start. Bastard.

"I _did._ He _did."_ Confusion swayed in Edward's mind, and he felt like his brain was a pendulum, swinging from side to side, side to side.

"But what price did you pay? How was it 'Equivalent'"? Roy interrogated, and Edward knew he had to answer. A part of him wanted to bury himself away from the depth of this conversation, but if he wanted to rise stronger, he had to answer the questions. The answer to the colonel's question came as naturally as breathing.

"I remember. Al was at the Gate. He bargained with Truth. He came back."

"What was his toll though?"

"Hell, I don't know!" Edward cried, his tone infuriated but imbedded with worry. His voice was quivering. The bird overhead was vanishing into the horizon of light, but was wavering, falling a little and was not gliding as naturally as it had been before.

That day was flooding back through his mind. Again. Rain, pounding rain was soaking his hair. There was a silence brewing in the air, identical to the brewing of the storm in the clouds above his head. The Sun was like a trace of memory, nowhere to be seen.

The price that Al had paid.

There hadn't been one. Al had died. Truth had let him live. But Al hadn't given anything in return.

Why hadn't Edward given himself up? Why had he been so pathetically weak and useless to drag Al with him on this futile mission and Al paid for the disaster while he, the older brother, the one famed and hailed by a title, had been _useless._

"Al, is he here? Or am I…?" Edward choked, his voice dragging like a claw scratch snagging skin. He didn't even realize that he was crying, streams of glistening tears.

Roy leaned over and wiped some off his face. He didn't speak or justify what he did. There was no reason too. "Of course he's here, Ed. He is never going to leave you. If for a second you think that he is gone, then I'll personally slay you. He needs our help. We have to bring him back for good."

"But I saw him!" Edward suddenly cried as his voice was lost amid sobs. "The casket. The coroners. Everything. I didn't want to accept it, how could I accept it, he's my little brother and I love him so much. If I accepted that he was gone, I would be giving up on him…"

"You didn't though. And I won't let you start to think that now."

Edward relented and slumped onto the colonel's shoulder. Nobody else needed to see him so weak and vulnerable. But just for now…like at the funeral, he needed that support. Not pity. Not sympathy. Just a shoulder.

There was silence, and then the muffled cries of Edward buried into Roy's shoulder mixed with the blissful chorus of birdsong which filled the morning skies of Resembool.

* * *

 _Here we go! Sorry it is two days late folks, but life is hectic just before Christmas!_

 _We're back to some of the sadness, but it progresses nicely into the next chapter (I hope!) where Roy's plan will set into motion. And yes, this parental moment and the angst broke me apart too. XD_

 _Thank you for your support, as always. With that, I hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you with the next update on Sunday ~ Dawn_


	15. Chapter 15

_Do you see that bird flying into the sunrise? It's free. It doesn't have to be bound by a name or to God's promises, like we are._

 _Would it be possible to escape from these binds, Al? Freedom is waiting just beyond the horizon._

* * *

Chapter 15

Winry stared wistfully down into the river's depths. A thin sheen layer of ice was resting on top of it, wandering down the river in drifts, but at the parts were the river was at its narrowest, the ice covered it completely. The frigid air seemed to press lightly on the glassy surface of the ice.

She hadn't visited the Glen for a very long time. The very name had a special ring to her, of a secret long kept between her and Ed and Al. This brook with its sheltered copse of trees was their hideout, even though their parents had known the truth about this location, this is how she had always thought of it: their special place.

They would come here as children, and build bridges from sticks they would find; they would plan their raids on the other villager's children here and she would sleep on Ed's shoulder while he intently read a book about alchemy. Thinking back, she realized with a jolt that those timeless summer days that they were spent at the Glen did not happen yesterday; it must have been over ten years ago now. It had been a time when she was beginning to dabble into automail and surgery, watching Granny fixing some broken automail through the crack of the door to her workshop late at night. Ed and Al had alchemy, and so she too had thought that she needed a hobby.

Mechanics soon took over that absent-missing part of her life. She would dream of gears and nervous connections while most children dreamed of teddy bears or sweets.

Yet those days would not stay. As soon as her parents were summoned off to Ishval, she would linger for longer periods in the workshop now that Granny trusted her to be around the valuable equipment. She had the heartfelt desire and belief, she _knew_ that if she worked her hardest at home, her parents would come back to visit her. They would have chosen to stay and they wouldn't leave her all alone again in Resembool. She remembered watching their backs as they had left home. She didn't want it to be like that.

For a five-year-old Winry, that was all the logic that the world needed to possess.

And when she had received the letter, it was like her dreams had been burnt to dust, and someone had trampled on their remains until there was nothing left of them. Her mind went into denial, and she would stay inside every day, crying in her trousers and stare down the country path to wait for Mama and Papa to return to her side.

Ed and Al tried to help. But what could they do? Alchemy was a magical trick; it wouldn't bring her parents back home, despite what they had said about human transmutation being possible. The warmth of summer had become a distant memory, and all of the time she had spent at the Glen had lived in the back of her mind, suppressed and forgotten, until today.

Winry had retreated to the workshop after Colonel Mustang's abrupt arrival and in the solitude of fixing broken metal; she could help order her scattered thoughts. Their arrival brought bitter thoughts to the forefront of her mind; the military had taken away her parents, had taken away her brothers, her love-

The workshop was her safe haven. Here nobody could interrupt her in her flow of construction of the elements. It wasn't like alchemy, where she would have to break things down, and destroy in order to create. With each one of her projects, she started from scratch, and built up her creation to form automail which would help to save a life.

 _That_ was what kept her tinkering through sleepless nights when her mind was riddled with despair. It was her beacon for motivation, for continuing and at times, it was her purpose to keep going through the day. Especially for Ed.

While she had been lost amid her thoughts in the early hours of the morning, she had not heard the workshop door opening and the footsteps of someone stepping lightly towards her. In deep concentration, she was oblivious to the world, much like how Ed was when he was reading and engrossed by a book.

That person had not been Ed at all, but a sturdy blonde woman.

The Lieutenant had approached her in the workshop in the faint hour before dawn, wearing her impeccably kept uniform, and recently cut hair revealing her class and elegance unknowingly. She was the type of woman who was indifferent to the way she could regale people with her comfort. Riza Hawkeye promised no lies, and those promises she made she upheld to keep. Winry admired her highly for that.

But even _she_ was surprised when the Lieutenant asked her a question: "Could you take me to a special place from your childhood this morning? I would love to see it."

 _Take her to a familiar place of her childhood_ …The question had been so unexpected. Even the thought of being asked such a random question hadn't occurred to her.

And at that moment, she heard the grumble she knew so well as Ed was dragged down the stairs by…the Colonel? Winry had to rub her eyes to confirm what she was seeing.

"What are you trying to put us up to, Miss Riza?" Winry asked sketchily, forcing her attention away from the automail which occupied the entirety of the workshop – scattered remnants of unfinished projects.

"There's always someone higher up who orchestrates the madness, Winry," was her simple reply.

Rubbing her eyes disdainfully, she pushed herself away from her workshop's dingy chair and for once she would allow fate to guide her down the path that it had planned for her, inlaid like a writer's envisioned plot yet to be discerned by ink and paper.

But why had she thought of coming to the Glen?

Winry's mind returned from its wanderings, and she was once again staring into the depths of the river, which reflected the same stark blue which ruled over the morning sky. Even with the trees barren and the river frozen, she could hear the lost chorus of birdsong resonating lightly throughout the air. The walk to the Glen had been short and uneventful; both blondes had held an amicable silence which allowed for the peaceful solitude of resting in one's own thoughts.

When they had arrived, Winry had come close to the river's edge, even though it was dangerous and she could have slipped. She had done this many times as a child in summer. But in summer everyone was carefree and an accident was an accident if something did go wrong. Winter made one doubt, and that made one fear for their safety. In this case, it was that for her from the Lieutenant.

"Be careful," Riza had cautioned but Winry had continued to slide down the dip in the land to reach the river's edge. The light was dancing off the ice's reflection like a celestial mirror, glistening in a kaleidoscope of colour. This place was reviving many memories, as if the Glen itself was a medium to the memories she had buried within her mind.

Perhaps they could come to the surface now that she was here.

Still the Lieutenant offered no more words of advice. Winry suddenly felt that this whole visit was pointless, like a journey of self-sacrifice which had inevitably caused the sacrifice of others.

She winced as she remembered Ed climbing the hill back home on his own without Al by his side. She clenched at her stomach, which suddenly _hurt._ Winry wanted to retch up the bile that was bubbling inside of her throat. It had appeared in front of her out of nowhere, like a strong current hidden beneath the calm water's depths.

Winry focused back on the rippling stream below the ice, like a layer of truth flowing by, just out of her reach. By her side, there was a towering oak with spindling branches which she grappled onto firmly with her right hand. She started to lean forward towards the water's depths with her left hand…so entrancing…so near…

But she was pulled back by a gentle force. The Lieutenant took Winry's arm which was still hooked onto the tree; the arm loosened without any resistance and flopped uselessly by Winry's side.

"Why did you bring me here, Riza?" Winry asked again, quietly and faintly, as though her voice was muffled through a layer of earth or someone had coated a fine layer of sand across her voice box. Riza stood by her side. Winry felt herself slip onto the cool ground below, closer to the water's edge than before and let her foot tap on the ice covering the water.

She gazed absent-mindedly past the riverbank; the world became a blur of colour of whites and greys and blues. But amongst the speck of monotone shades, there was a flash of brown in her peripheral line of vision. She turned to the side, gasping in shock, as she saw a mass of feathers speckled across the ground several metres away from her. Blood spatters surrounded the mass. It was a starling.

And it wasn't moving; it was still.

But starlings had a blend of black and brown feathers – this one only had brown. It was young, a juvenile of its kind. Just like the one…

"Oh God no," Winry whispered, her heart squeezing inside of her chest. Years ago, they had come down to the Glen. Their parents had told them not too; it was winter and the Glen could be dangerous. And by no means were they allowed out in the dark alone. They weren't alone though. They had each other – her and Ed and Al.

They had come to the water. It had been frozen over, the first time they had seen it perfectly still and locked up like lava in a volcano. There had been darkness surrounding them; it was almost like the children were not in the Glen, but in a swamp, murky depths threatening to engulf them in a tide of black. Winry had grabbed onto Ed's shoulder – fearful that she would fall into the river, even though the ice had formed a bridge paving across the river.

She was mesmerised by the trance of the water churning by. Winry had remained where she was. But something had rushed by then, dragged by the strong river current. Winry had yelped in shock. Beneath the ice, there was a sudden quivering as the creature, a bird, wriggled helplessly against the river flowing, caught in a tangle of sea plants.

"Brother…" Al had said with all of the tension mingled in his voice. Ed had taken Winry's hand tenderly off of his shoulder, shrugging his coat, gloves and scarf onto the ground next to her and Al. And he had stepped out onto the ice, one foot at a time. Winry wanted to close her eyes, but fascination kept her watching. She had to help him. What could she do? She could tell that Ed's weight was barely supported by the fragile ice.

The bird had started to move less as if it was becoming numb to the inevitable prospect of death. The bleak stars shone on from above. Ed was only a pace away from the bird now. However, the ice had become incredibly thin and as he took a cautious step forward, it started to fracture like a claw scratch. One dent, two, four…the fissures in the ice were multiplying like flies in a room, like fears overwhelming her mind.

And then it had buckled under the pressure. One moment Ed was balancing precariously on its surface, and the next he was submerged beneath its depths. It was so dark that Winry couldn't even see his golden outline flailing.

Both Al and Winry had leapt forward to try to help Ed, but fear had them paralyzed. As soon as they stepped out onto the ice, it split and turned into a ring of water and shattered debris.

They had to head downstream. Leaving Ed's crumpled coat behind, Winry had sprinted along the riverbank, and a gut-wrenching guilt constricting her rational thought; _she_ had insisted on coming, _she_ had pointed out the bird struggling in the river. She hated to watch a life leave this land, just like when she had found Den with a mangled leg. And she had saved his life.

This time she was helpless. There was a sudden splashing from the centre of the river and flailing as Ed's head broke through the surface of the water. His clothes were dragging him down, and he was holding one hand above his head as if his hand repelled the touch of the water. He was clutching something gently in this hand.

He had saved the bird! Ignoring the paralysis that was stuck inside of her throat, she had waded out into the water; here the stream was narrower and shallower than where the bird had been trapped. Alphonse was ahead of her, and he had reached his brother already. Winry reached out to hold the younger brother's hand, and together they had pulled Ed back to the shore.

Edward was spluttering. As soon as his feet touched the muddy ground, he had collapsed onto its dirty surface, panting steams of frigid air like train smoke. His golden eyes were tired and he turned onto his back, watching the stars above. He was still holding the contents in his hands closely.

Without speaking, Al tried to reach for Ed's hand, but Ed instantly snatched it away from Al. He closed his eyes and refused to answer Al's calls. Dread lurched through Winry. She leaned forward, understanding pouring through her soul.

"Ed…" she said and reached out to his hand, as slowly as the constellations spun through their path across the night sky. Ed was shaking, and not only from the cold. "Al, Ed is going to freeze. Can you get his coat up there?"

Al nodded, and he turned back the way he came, climbing up onto higher ground to avoid the danger of slipping into the ice.

Ed unclenched his hand then. Inside was the huddled, brown form of a starling. It didn't move.

"I tried…But I couldn't save it," Ed whispered.

"There was nothing you could do. You did more than-" Winry started taking off her coat to try to stop Ed's shivering.

"I couldn't save a single life. How can I save anyone?" Edward looked at his hands, still soaked with feathers that had fallen from the bird.

"You do it every day, Ed," Winry had said. But before she could finish, she had heard the shouting of their names. It was the voice of her parents, and Ed's mum. Al was running towards her with them. Before Winry could continue, she was swathed in a blanket by her parents, and she had forgotten what she was going to say to Ed.

Until now.

* * *

"I can't let it die. Not this time," he could hear Winry say, barely above the frosty stillness of the morning. Edward was standing watching her from a distance beside Roy. He had insisted that they follow Winry after watching the sunrise. Even after the emotional full circle he had endured so far today, Roy was still a git.

"It was on a day just like this one," Winry murmured, her voice as lost as a butterfly hidden in a cocoon. Hawkeye must have spoken to Winry, but he had been too distracted to hear what she had said. Instead, he heard Winry's reply. "I have to give him a purpose."

Edward was surprised that she remembered that winter's night at the Glen. It had been so long since he had tried to save the bird's life. He remembered falling beneath the water's surface, and a serene calm had made him numb to the core. It had surrounded him like a breath of fresh air. But he had seen the bird struggling in the murky black depths and he had thought of Winry and Al and his mum. He had started to swim forwards and held the bird delicately in his palm as though it was like a baby Al. He couldn't give up.

Someone was shaking his shoulder. Edward shook his head and looked up to see Roy gesturing subtly back towards Winry. She had started to run up the river bank, her scarf trailing behind her like a kite as she moved purposefully towards the house. There was a little starling in her hands. Just like the one he had failed to save on that night, just like the one he had seen flying towards the woods earlier this morning, the essence of hope and freedom.

"You see, Fullmetal. Even if she is swamped in pain, she continues on. She is nearly as stubborn as you," Roy stated with a hint of glee in his tone.

It was true. Al hadn't given up on him. Neither had Winry.

"And she doesn't even know that Al is here…" Edward said, feeling his pulse rise. "Oh goddamn. What have I done?

"She must have thought…when I was talking to Al…and she couldn't see him? Oh God, Win had to witness me. She probably thought I was lost…and she's like me…she would blame herself. Now she won't stop blaming herself; she's stubborn and resilient and more determined than anyone else I know. I have to go to her!"

He raced after her towards the house, all discretion forgotten. Instead of minutes passing, it felt that seconds were barely passing as he approached the house. There was no way in Hell that he was going to stop now. He followed Winry's footsteps inlaid in the snow, out of the edge of the woods, up the hillside path, into the front door, through to the kitchen.

"I won't let you die!" Winry had the kettle boiling, the smell of antiseptic seeping through the air. Granny was bustling around, fetching towels. Winry's eyes scanned through the contents of a medical textbook and she was hastily nodding, as if she was refilling her mind with the rudimentary knowledge of anatomy she had read when she was a child. And beside her…Al was rubbing the bird's back, coaxing it to cough up the river water it had trapped in its belly. They worked with such swift union, as if they had been doing this routine for their entire lives.

Now to make himself useful. Edward dipped into the bustling stream of people. Winry heard him, her head rising to meet Ed's golden eyes. "Fetch me that kettle," she snapped abruptly. She turned away from him, while Al worked in his silent diligence.

Edward took the piping hot kettle from the stove and brought it over to the table, where a bowl with a cloth was inside of it. They were going to save this bird's life. And then…he wanted to continue where he had started off. He couldn't let another life be lost to his hands. He had to return Al to normal. He had to make Winry smile. He had made her cry too many times.

In the back of his mind, he was scorning the colonel for being a cocky bastard, as if Mustang had planned for this to happen. And seeing Winry work alongside Al unknowingly, he at least knew that he wasn't far off.

* * *

 _Chapter 15! And not on the 15th December. Oh well XD Sorry it is a day late, and thank you for your patience for that! I have work experience until the 23rd so it's hard to find time for writing._

 _I've been wanting to write this one for a couple of weeks now and I don't even know why XD I admire Winry's strength in this, and that Ed was her inspiration, and now she's inspiring the same person that she was originally inspired by. Confusing to say the least!_

 _Winry isn't coming to Central when we get to that, so that's why she's getting a bit of time in the story for now. It's ok, Roy, you'll be back in the spotlight next chapter._

 _Many thanks for reading and I'll see you with the next update on Friday! ~ Dawn_


	16. Chapter 16

_What is the true purpose of focusing? Does it stop us from being distracted away from the path ahead? Will it allow us to reach our goal?_

 _I believe it makes you understand what's important to you...and reminds you of what is worth fighting for._

* * *

Chapter 16

He remembered. He remembered being alone in the dark for as long as the tales of time have been written. He remembered a sinking feeling, of helplessness and loneliness which nothing but dawn could abate.

And then he remembered a sudden flash of warmth as though someone was shining a bright light over him. It was a sensation called "feeling", something of which he had not experienced throughout those dark years. He couldn't describe it: happiness, blind euphoria, feeling ecstatic.

Al had got his body back at last.

However, he had been whisked away from that warm and bright world. As quickly as he had become a part of it, he was being taken away to a cruel and dark place.

No…he didn't want this! He didn't want to leave everyone behind after he had just found them again. No…

He remembered rain. He remembered Truth's ominous grin and bargain for his life. For Alphonse, he would have given anything for his life. Through his life, he could bring happiness to others. That was what his brother had been waiting for. To see him smile again. Nothing more. He couldn't rob his brother's hopes for that.

But he had left the world behind. If he returned, would he ever be able to be the same again?

Like a ripple in water, he had re-joined the flow of life's river, but he had disrupted the current. He wasn't a true part of this world anymore. Just an observer, watching from this intermediary place which he lived in. Al remembered confusion…feeling so confused that he thought that his head was going to burst. At times…Ed could see him, and he could comfort his brother and tell him that everything was alright and he would never leave his brother's side again.

But at times…Ed couldn't see him. Al never left Ed's side. Of course he wouldn't. But when Ed had been battling the demons inside of his mind, tossing and turning as his sleep was shrouded by nightmares, he was helpless, weaker than a stray; no matter how much he fought to be seen or heard by his brother, nothing would change. Al remained as undetectable as a shadow.

With the days that passed after his return and bargain, he felt his strength beginning to return; all the while that Ed's strength was fading further and further from reach until the Fullmetal Alchemist had been locked in a box with a padlock and chain within Ed. He didn't want to relive the memories. He didn't want to remember the autumn rain which had shed Al's soul from this world like tears. Al didn't have to sympathise; he knew his brother too well for that.

Al wanted to come home. The place where he belonged and could be a part of the greater web which connected everything in this world together. He wanted to live and flourish. But even he didn't know whether it was possible for his body to be restored or not.

He had watched Ed…at the coroners…at the funeral…and what few fragments of his heart which had not been broken had shattered at that instant.

All that Al had wanted was to hold his brother and make the nightmares go away. And for them never to come back.

Dazed, Al was suddenly awoken from a stupor from the resonating sound of footsteps approaching the house. From the way that the sunlight was shining elongated through the window, it must have been midmorning.

 _It must have worked,_ Al thought with a contented sigh. _Colonel Mustang must have done it._

Al had been the one to get Ed to hear Winry remember the Glen. It was a place which was rarely spoken about, because after the incident where Ed had almost drowned, they had all been frightened that circumstances _could_ have changed. And that something could have gone wrong.

For some reason, Al knew that would be the topic that Winry would mention, and equally the topic that Ed needed to hear. When the bird had been near death, and its chances of survival were bleak at best, Ed had still tried to save its life.

Even though he had never learnt how to swim properly, and in the freezing air of winter, Ed had stepped out onto the frozen river. _He_ had been the one to do that.

It was a lesson of resilience that Al had never forgotten.

But Winry was running up the hill with a limp bundle in her arms. Al blinked in surprise when he distinguished feathers in Winry's hands, cold and sticking to her. Even if Winry couldn't see him, he had to help. He had to be resilient, and perhaps this time, they would be rewarded and the bird's life would be saved this time.

Equivalent Exchange wasn't all that bad.

* * *

Hawkeye had been the one to advise him to stay away for the day. Initially, he had been reluctant, but after he had watched Fullmetal following Winry across the snow-trodden ground, Roy had realized that this was something that the Elric brothers and Winry needed to do by themselves. They probably blamed themselves for losing the life of the bird all of those years ago – that was just the kind of people that they were. However, this time they had the chance to make a difference, and whether they succeeded or not, it was up to them.

They didn't need his involvement…yet.

They had decided to visit the winter's market in Resembool, which was a cosy series of stalls being sold by the farmers who lived in the town. There were families with young children wandering up and down the streets; Roy fondly imagined Ed and Al coming here with their mother. He couldn't imagine Ed's father coming, being the illusive and secretive man that Roy had guised from the enigmatic descriptions that he had teased out of Fullmetal's secluded mind. The world around him however was a blur, like the slush that dotted the countryside paths.

He hadn't slept a full night in over a month. But after the events of last night, his strength was sapping away from him. Coffee was useless at this point, and he now depended on being driven on by something else.

Focus.

In their wanderings, he had gone to the train station, which was oddly abandoned compared to the bustling atmosphere of the stalls in the village square of Resembool. The trains had been delayed from the heavy snow, but since no more snow was expected to fall for the next couple of days, the trains were set to start running on the next day. As they departed, Roy thought for some reason that he would be returning back here very, very soon.

Realizing that he was completely unequipped for the cold environment of Resembool, he forked out his purse at one of the stalls and bought some boots, which he handed to Hawkeye. And because he had time, and money, regrettably, to exhaust for the rest of the day, Roy picked off another item of clothing in two different sizes as well as some black thread.

While Hawkeye was occupied with orientating her way around the town, on guard and alert, Roy scuttled around the back of a stall, looking more like a jester than a high-ranking officer of the Amestrian military. He rubbed his hands together and brought some chalk out of his pocket, laying his purchases on the ground with the thread on top of them. He hoped that alchemy would work for this. He couldn't help but grin snidely as he thought of Hawkeye's reaction to his creative genius.

Riza glared at him when he handed her this particular item of clothing, a bright red fluffy jumper, turtleneck and long-sleeved, with a stitched black flame along its back. "You are now an official member of the Flame Alchemist's team," Roy commented proudly.

"No," Riza stated, and dropped the jumper on the ground.

"That is an order, Hawkeye," Roy stated, turning his back, fluffy jumper on. The sun was starting to set; it was time to head back.

Hawkeye sighed under her breath before she followed Roy back up the path towards the Rockbell's house. But before they could, Roy hurried back to the stall to stock up on the red jumpers – he soon had enough for all of his team, plus a few extras.

He had a present for Fullmetal, who would receive it, even if he couldn't order the blond hothead around anymore.

* * *

"Come in, I guess you're going to walk in anyway, bastard," Edward called from the depths of his bedroom. Roy turned the knob on the door and entered. Darkness has settled across the world once again. This time yesterday and he was traveling towards Resembool. And only a day on, and he was here.

Ed's room was dark. But to Roy's surprise, the curtains were open, and Al and Winry were sitting side by side, even if Winry was oblivious to his presence. Edward was sitting in a chair, his back turned from Roy as he gazed out of the window. Roy's hand clenched around the bag he was carrying, stuffed with the jumpers. Three in total.

But he was distracted by how…distant Ed looked. He didn't turn or react to him and Roy wondered if he should have brought Hawkeye with him or not.

"Coffee, Colonel?" Roy finally heard, and realized that Winry had moved to stand next to him, and was now politely tapping Roy on the shoulder. How long had she been asking him for?

"Oblivious idiot," Fullmetal said, chuckling lightly. His back was still turned towards the window, away from him. Had he said or done something wrong? Had it really been fair for him to be so blunt and outspoken against Edward so soon after arriving? Roy had thought that he was doing something right…but maybe not.

"Take care of it, Ed," Winry whispered, and departed from the room in a flurry of white-blonde hair. Take care of what?

 _Thank you, Roy._ Who was that? It was like a voice had spoken in his head, but no sound had been said, like a faint tickling against his consciousness, a warm touch.

 _Without you, I'm not sure if we could have saved it. And I would not have been able to save him._

The voice was familiar…gentle but strong. Determined but considerate. Al. But…how? Roy turned his head towards Al, who was sitting with his legs crossed on the bed, his shortly-cropped hair revealing his closed eyes and content smile.

 _I'm connected to the Gate while in this state. I can do things I wouldn't be able to normally do._

Roy never thought that psychic powers would be possessed to a man of science. But then Roy was reminded of the time at the funeral, when he had watched Hawkeye with Ed, when Fullmetal had moved forwards, calling out Al's name, as if he could hear a voice that nobody else could hear. Had that been Al all along?

Al never left Ed, even when he couldn't reach him.

 _Thank you for my brother, Colonel._

What was coming next? Roy expected something more.

 _Brother's been bound for so long now, Colonel._

And then Ed lifted his hands gently from his lap, and curled up in blankets was a sleeping starling. Suddenly, as if responding to Roy's alerted thoughts, the bird opened its beetle-black eyes, cocking its head and twittering in confusion. It hopped from Ed's palm to the windowsill with a little flutter and then opened its wings wide, spiralling out into the big, wide world, a never-ending horizon. A spiral of autumn colours in winter's grasp.

 _He has to be free to fly._

Seconds passed, when the quiet chorus of birds called out faintly from the distance, as if the bird had a family it was returning to. Roy placed the bag down on the side, forgetting that it was even there.

Ed had saved its life. This time…he had been rewarded. After all that Fullmetal had given, perhaps he was going to get something in return for once.

Equivalent Exchange could exist after all.

* * *

"You know what I'm going to ask you, Colonel," Edward stated, his attention half-diverted listening to the serene birdsong filling the skies by night. He remembered Winry's smile, Al's smile, by his side when they knew that the bird was in a stable condition.

He had saved a life…they had saved a life.

"Amuse me, Fullmetal," Mustang leaned against the closed door and folded his arms. He waited expectantly.

Edward stood up at that moment, his golden hair loose behind his back, draped in a baggy ponytail, a series of scraps held together by a red band. He yanked it out with a grunt. Without bothering to find a hairbrush, he started to brush his hair with his fingers, failing dismally at removing the knots from his hair. He didn't have to look in the mirror anymore to know how to braid his hair, even if his flaxen hair had grown more than usual over the past month. He rested a hand on the band as he secured his hair with it, and let his braid fall neatly down his back.

"I'm not completely ready," he shuddered at the memory of the rain. "But I'm fed up with waiting. We've been waiting for long enough."

Al nodded in agreement while Mustang shifted from foot to foot which he was using to support his weight as he leaned against the door.

"We're leaving tomorrow, bastard. There is an important mission that needs to be… _finished,"_ Ed hissed out the last word, as he saw menacing lilac eyes staring at him in his mind, with a maddening smile. Envy.

Edward was going to Central. He was fed up of crying himself to sleep in blind panic dreaming of birds and lambs and slaughter.

 _Al…_

No.

No more.

His eyes wandered to the pile of letters sitting abandoned on his desk, "But first…I've got something important to do."

* * *

 _Merry Christmas Eve! Sorry this is a day late, but I've been playing on the Wii for what feels like the first time in a century! XD Oh, and X-Men happened..._

 _I have exams coming up soon, so I'm going to be taking a short break from writing for two weeks. I have updates nearly ready for Blue Hour and Before October, but I won't be writing any new chapters from now on. Thank you for your patience. :D_

 _I wish you all good health and happiness leading into the New Year. Take care and I'll see you with the next update! ~ Dawn_


	17. Chapter 17

_At the crossroads, there is more than one path to tread. All paths are dangerous, all lingering with shadows, as we come closer to our goal. The light shines through the darkness, glowing faintly. Do you see it, smaller than a firefly? A warm light that must be protected...just like you, Al._

* * *

Chapter 17

Two weeks had passed. And nothing. Absolutely nothing. They had gained no leads, no clues to the whereabouts of Envy or _anything_ that might return Al to normal.

True, Edward had waited for nearly five years of relentless searching until Al had returned to his body.

True, he had time to spare.

But Al didn't. His mind itched, searching through the pools of alchemic information that he had accumulated over the years, or specifically from one looming grey Gate. Nothing. It was like he was searching for silver in dirt or panning for gold in a river. Something may appear to be easy, but that doesn't mean that it ever will be.

Edward's foot kicked a pebble into the side of the road, watching as a car screeched by, bright flashing lights causing him to squint uncomfortably. He was returning from another false lead. The colonel had concocted a series of locations as if from a spell book, and Edward had gone to each of them in turn – some in the city, some on desolate country roads. The list had gradually become shorter with each place he had crossed off.

He became frustrated and stepped into the road, kicking the pebble again. A car was racing towards him, and he nimbly ducked out before the car grumbled past like a monster. It was late and he was tired…and his spirits soggy like the grey slush that remained of the snow in the roads. His list had diminished; only a few places were left for him to search for Envy.

The Homunculi barely left a trace. They could blend into the human world and leave it like shadows, causing havoc and ruin in their wake. Edward realized that they had been doing this for hundreds of years – delving into the human world, holding the strings over society, and controlling the actions of Amestris' citizens until nothing was left. He thought of Ishval – had the Homunculi been involved then?

Of course they had to be.

They were powerful foes but Edward wouldn't rest until he had made Envy pay for every single tear that he had shed. And here he was trailing around Central City obeying the colonel like the subordinate he was supposed to be, but even that pathway through the military had led to a dead end.

" _If only the colonel would listen!"_ Edward protested his thoughts out aloud. He had wandered through the city and landed himself back at Central HQ, a mass of hulking buildings towering above him, the cracks and crevices blocked from the sun still had a powdery layer of snow glistening. The rest of the building had become damp and sullen as the anticipation of the snow literally melted away down the drains.

His pace sped up, eager for the warmth and sleep of the barracks. First though, off to Mustang's office to throw his useless report onto the colonel's desk and tell the colonel how useless he was and _then_ he was going to march off to get some sleep.

Or that would have been the plan if he was only accounting for himself. Al was staying in the colonel's office; if Edward was seen apparently conversing with himself in public, that would be the cause for suspicion. And Edward didn't know if the Homunculi, who were the creation of alchemy yet could not wield the icy power, could see Al. They didn't have the _right_ to look at Al.

Edward noticed that he was breathing heavily. This had happened often in the past week. In Resembool, in his dream-like state locked away from the world, he had been yearning to feel any emotion beyond the numb pain which blinded him like a bright light. But like the outer layer of a shell being peeled open, emotion was seeping into his soul and it had taken him by surprise. He felt so _angry_ , so confused, and so bitter towards the world, even one lonely pebble that he had kicked across the street for nearly half an hour. And Edward knew why. He had pushed it aside, this thing called Grief, for so long and even though he had escaped its clutches, if barely, he still felt it as raw as a wound. It wrapped around him like iron and choked him until he was boiling with rage. Al had received the biggest injustice of Al, when all his younger brother had been seeking was justice of some kind. He had tailed along with him, without being a member of the military, to support his big brother in the mission against what they thought to be was a rogue alchemist. Al had been trying to restore a fraction of the justice to this fractured world.

And Al had paid with his life. It hadn't even been mission. It was Edward's, it was _his_ alone, and if he had only convinced Al to stay behind, his soul would be safe in Resembool and he would have been dreaming of eating one of Winry's homemade apple pies…It was his fault, stupid fool who called himself Fullmetal…

Edward was the bitterest towards himself.

He wiped his forehead against the blisteringly cold winter air, realizing that he was shivering for being outside for so long. All of his thoughts, his worries, he let slip away like dirt being washed away in the shower. Edward knew he couldn't bury his feelings away forever; there were scars he had that wouldn't leave a trace.

It was a shock when he nearly walked into the door. He stopped an inch before the wood would have smacked into his face, and as he took a few steps back to orientate his body, a hand slapped on his shoulder.

"Chief! Colonel was just starting to worry where you went," Edward flinched, but relaxed when he recognised who the voice belonged to. A puff of smoke was blown straight into Edward's lungs, causing him to cough uncomfortably. He watched as the cigarette fell onto the floor, and was scrapped away to cinders by a military boot. He heard the clink of loose change in this individual's pockets.

"Tell the colonel to worry about his own work, Havoc," Edward protested as the Second Lieutenant let out a laugh and cough at the same time, stepping past Edward to enter the warmth of the headquarters. Not wanting to shiver and freeze over like a river any longer, he quickly followed Havoc into the depths of the building, keeping his head down and sticking close to Havoc's side. He passed unnoticed by the military personnel. Edward was just wasn't quite ready to face the limelight yet.

They ascended the stairs. Edward lost count of how many he had climbed, and he thought he had climbed enough stairs to reach the clouds. Perhaps he could shake the sky to make more snow fall. He didn't mind the snow – it was only the numb chill in his fingers and toes as well as the ache in his ports that he didn't like about winter. At least he was no longer running through the streets, so he wasn't falling over all the time on his-

"No need to climb anymore, Chief, we're here," Havoc caused Ed's thoughts to return to reality. The man's grey-blue eyes gestured to the door into the office, and stayed where he was as Edward approached. Usually inside, there would be the sound of rifle fire from Hawkeye as an incentive to make the colonel work, the laughter of Team Mustang and their leader being subject to the Lieutenant's wrath. Today it was silent, as it had been for a while.

As the door creaked open, Edward saw the colonel working at his desk, _working_ at his desk, while the rest of the room was quiet. Edward was confused; the colonel seemed to be the only one occupying the office. And he was doing paperwork. Hawkeye, Fuery and the others were not in sight. Edward heard the door closing behind him – damn Havoc – and he was left to the company of the Flame Alchemist. But he didn't care about that. Edward's eyes immediately scanned across the room, searching for Al. And there was Al, asleep at a desk, his mouth slightly open and stomach visible. He slept just like how Edward did, even if he didn't want to admit it. The late afternoon light was drifting slowly through the windows, which shimmered around Al with a distinct ghostly sheen.

He looked so peaceful and young, as if their trials and torments had been lost to him as he roamed in the world of his dreams.

The colonel was focused on his work, his head bent over and he was scribbling furiously on a piece of paper. He lifted the pen from the paper, and twirled it around in his fingers before drumming his other hand on the surface of the table. He was deep in thought, fuelled by the coffee aroma heavy in the air. Edward saw the desk, which was littered with empty coffee mugs, confirming his suspicions.

"Nothing then, I presume?" the colonel droned in his monotonous and professional military voice, the voice he used to assert his authority as Edward's superior officer. Not that it mattered anymore of course. But what was lost was the sympathetic tone had had displayed on the rooftop in Resembool. Edward didn't think it anything less than typical.

"These lists are useless, Colonel. You must have grabbed them from the trash," Edward's insult bounced across the room, but the colonel seemed to dodge the blow, and ignored the comment, settling into a rhythmic silence as if he had not heard Edward speak at all. When less than a minute had passed and Mustang had refused to make a reply, Edward snapped, "Answer me, you bastard!"

"I think you answered yourself, Fullmetal," the colonel deadpanned and continued to sift through the endless reams of paperwork.

"What the hell are you doing anyway?" Edward said, and his automail hand darted to pinch the sheet off the black-haired man. Even though the colonel would beat him in hand-to-hand combat, with height being an advantage, Edward possessed the element of surprise with him. He was fed up of chasing the leads the colonel had set for him; helping to return Al to his original state was supposed to be a combined effort. But Edward felt like he was the puppet being pulled by the strings from a certain Roy Mustang.

But Edward's expression became blank as he stared down at the piece of paper, as it had when he had read the first of the contents of the letters back home. What if Roy had intentionally been letting him chase after the criminals, to give Edward back the limited power and courage that he had? What if Roy was trying to help him to regain his independence, after being lost out at sea for a very long time?

Edward had failed to notice that this "paperwork" that the colonel was working seemingly religiously on was not military-authorised cases and did not bear the symbol of Amestris in the corner as it should have. These were private documents. And circled on the middle of the piece of paper read: _Customers._

Knowing the colonel, the "customers" referred to a shop scenario the colonel envisioned when dealing with evildoers or his enemies, likely both. The "workers" in his shop were members of his team who had been dispatched to address the criminals in person. When the shop was "closed", the mission had been completed, and a clear success.

The next target for Mustang had been the Homunculi. And based on the huge stack of paperwork that littered his desk, this had been his mission for more than two weeks, more than a month, but not long enough for the papers to collect dust. That had to make the start of this mission fairly recent. And what had happened recently was…Al.

The colonel had been working to save Al from the start. Edward hadn't known…

Roy stretched out lazily like a cat and rubbed his neck, letting loose a growl as he unstiffened his tense body. He looked perfectly lax as he said, "I guess the secret would get out eventually."

Instead of responding to the colonel's comment in his typically fiery way, Edward was at a loss for words, and he realized that his mouth was slightly agape in shock, and he quickly clamped his mouth shut. His hands tightened around the piece of paper, crumpling its corners, and his thoughts turned to the ghostly reflection of his brother sleeping on the table.

"You really…" Edward started, but he found that he couldn't finish. Something was blocking the words from coming out.

"Why wouldn't I? I couldn't be responsible for the loss of a subordinate…" Roy didn't finish as Edward slammed an automail fist on the mahogany.

"You really care, don't you, bastard," Edward stated. And it was a fact, a statement. Not a mere question. He had witnessed the colonel saving the skins of his team before, but never _him._ He had never been the one that needed saving. Until now. Both of the Elric brothers had needed saving from their own minds in which resided the demons which had been waiting for them, collecting under the road they tread.

Roy smirked, and kicked his feet back so he was lounging on his desk, somehow resembling a cat even more each second. Perhaps he had a pet cat hidden somewhere. But the notion was appropriate, but Edward felt his feet moving on their own accord, letting the paperwork fall onto the desk, and he made his way around the edge of the table until he was facing his superior officer.

He would end up being the Fuhrer one day; Edward was willing to make a bet on that.

They didn't have to carry the burden alone. That was what Edward was so afraid of. If he released the emotion he had been locking away inside of him, he would reveal his weakness to the world, and that sometimes, he wasn't the hero, and couldn't carry the mantle of responsibility on his own. Even with the power struggle and corruption in the military, the colonel was still willing to help _him._

Not the Fullmetal Alchemist, the Hero of the People. Only Edward Elric. Ed.

"You condescending, arrogant ass, thinking you can save the world by yourself…" Edward muttered, as the colonel pivoted around in his office chair to look at him, black eyes intent and alert. His voice lowered to a whisper, "why did you have to be the one to save us?"

The colonel stood up at that moment, and he stepped across the threshold between the two of them. He treaded lightly, as though avoiding the demons that littered the path that he was crossing. Despite that, despite the past and burdens that Edward carried, Roy was still willing to step forward to be the shoulder. He could have left Edward to wilt away in Resembool, and crumble to ash. But he cared, deep down.

And as he pulled Edward into an embrace, Edward didn't flinch at the contact or recoil away. The hands holding him were strong…exactly what he imagined a father's touch to be like. He felt protected…safe…warm…

"We'll get there, Ed. Just you wait," Roy whispered. And he continued to hold Edward there, without speaking, as each roamed in their world of blissful thoughts.

* * *

The automail workshop was already littered with projects that had come in recently over the past two weeks. After Edward had left, Granny had muttered that they "couldn't sit on their asses" while the others were away trying to help Al…who was here but not here…it was hard to justify helping someone who you couldn't see, but Winry knew for certain that Edward was not hallucinating. The colonel, and Den, could see him too.

And that warm presence that had sent her to sleep that snowy night that felt so long ago had to have been Al. She was sure of that now.

Winry breathed in the scent of gears and oil. It was late afternoon, and the shop to clients had just closed, leaving her routine evening work of maintenance to start, which she would return to her clients the next day. Florence needed her right arm prosthetic upgraded to the cold climate model…the balance of the leg for Aaron needed fine-tuning…

But as she sat at her workbench, the usual flow of inspiration failed to take her away from this world through her deeply set concentration. When she returned to this world, she had finished each and every project she had set herself to complete for the evening, and it was only then that she would realize how tired she had become. She would look at the clock and gasp at how six hours had come and gone…just like that.

She waited. Sometimes the inspiration took several minutes to sink in. She started to think about the euphoric expressions of her clients as they were fitted with their automail for the first time, overcoming the pain and nerve that automail surgery often entailed along with it. For her clients, being fitted with a prosthetic limb was equivalent to climbing a mountain.

Nothing came, not even a spark of creativity. And Winry would never work on a project she was only half-invested in; if she created anything, it was her duty to put her heart and soul into it.

Heart…she thought of Edward, so full of love and courage, burying his pain within his heart.

Soul…she thought of Al, reduced to shreds of a soul, traversing between two worlds without a place to stay.

Her throat trembled, and her eyes prickled. She sucked in the musty air of boxes and metal around her, imagining she was inhaling intrepidity. She wouldn't cry.

But then, a nagging thought started to arise in her mind. Something that she tried to push away, and yet before she could control her movements, her hands had moved away from the automail she had been holding and were sifting through drawers, folders stuffed with the deliveries of supplies.

She had just remembered something vital about Edward's automail. Before in her flustered and anxious state, she had forgotten all about it. But thinking about him had made her remember…how could she have forgotten?

She seized the sheet of paper she was looking for. The delivery notice of the metal for Edward's automail she had crafted was in her hands. As her eyes scanned the corner of the notice for the usual sign of the return address, or where the automail had been made, and her eyes widened in surprise; the suppliers for Edward's glistening automail were not the same suppliers she remembered purchasing the automail from…the forms may have been mixed up…an error may have occurred in the delivery process…

She hadn't even heard of this automail supplier before.

But perhaps this error was not a coincidence after all.

"Granny!" Winry called as she turned around her clutching the piece of paper in her hand, flicking the switch of the light off as she left the workshop in the dark for the night. There were important leads for her to follow. _She_ could be useful.

* * *

 _Here we are, back in business, just like Winry! Ok, that was an awful reference, I apologise!_

 _If you're wondering why I skipped over Edward reading the letters from Al in Resembool, I haven't forgotten! They are just the epilogue idea ;)_

 _I'm predicting about 7-10 more chapters for this story. And then it will be over. *cries* For now, sit tight, and be prepared for a climax and you guessed it - more angst._

 _Thank you for reading, and I'll see you with the next update on Sunday. Time to get back in the pattern of regular updates! ~ Dawn_


	18. Chapter 18

_Something's coming, Al. I can face it, but not on my own right now. Just stay by my side, and I will stay by yours. Would that be enough?_

* * *

Chapter 18

There was a noise, and Al stirred from his slumber. Had he been asleep again? He blinked in surprise; he hadn't even realized that he had slipped into the realm of dreams was one small part of the madness that Al found himself surrounded with. The Elric brothers seemed to attract madness to them like magnets; perhaps being alchemists was the very reason for that.

That was ironic, since he couldn't use alchemy. Not in this state anyway. He had tried but despite the cool and serene focus that would whisk his mind away when he was transmuting, he was distracted, like a drone sounding in the back of his head. He lost his trail of thought, without transmuting anything. He assumed that was part of the "bargain" that Truth had made with him.

He shook his head lightly, or tried to, but his muscles were cramped from being curled up on the desk asleep where he was. Al didn't want to be reminded of Truth, or as Ed fittingly described them, _bastard._

And his older brother, even if he was one of the most renowned alchemists in the country…probably the whole world, and had a reputation which people twice his age were hoping to aspire in their lifetime. Ed had done it, all before he had become a teenager. And typical Ed had scoffed at that thought, thinking it a matter too unimportant to be discussed further.

But now…he wouldn't perform alchemy. He didn't want to mention it, think about it.

Even though his big brother was coming to terms with what happened to Al, whenever he saw Ed, there was always a haunted expression hidden behind his fierce complexion. Al knew his brother well enough – Ed still blamed himself for what happened to Al. And this was not only about the mistake they had made about resurrecting the dead. This was pain that Ed had inflicted on the _living_ , believing he had made Al suffer through a thousand hells by performing alchemy.

Ed didn't have to say any of these things. Al could gage it from one look, a look that almost belonged to the eyes of a killer. Ed wasn't. He wasn't. He would never be!

Al wasn't _all_ here, but he wasn't _all_ there. He wasn't dead.

But…as he tilted his golden hair to look out of the window, seeing the late afternoon shine filtering through the window, he looked down at his hand he used to tuck his hair out of his face. His hand was glowing a faint golden-silver colour, radiating in a strange platinum light, like a veil had encased him. It was an ethereal light that seemed to be cast by an otherworldly presence. And despite having slept the whole day away, Al's body ached. He felt that he was suffering from chronic fatigue. He had been forgetful and sleeping more and more of the days away. Al shuddered at the subconscious thought that maybe his bargain with Truth was really ending…and that this time…he was really dying.

Even after all that Ed had suffered? Al didn't give a damn what he felt. He had been going long enough without literally feeling _anything._ And by far the best moment he had had since he had shed his armour had been holding Ed's delicate form close to him, the warmth spilling between the two brothers on top of the house of the hill, where they had lost so much.

Despite being so broken on their own, Al had been able to heal with the promise of moving forward with his brother. He had longed for…no he still longed for the day that they could both be whole again.

Al shuddered. If he left Edward behind now, leaving no trace behind like a ghost, Ed would remain shattered. All ice had to melt away eventually against the pull of the current.

But Al didn't want this fate to be sealed. He didn't want to believe in destiny. He wanted to visit the world and experience every day with the ones that he loved.

Some may have called him a naïve boy, which was true to an extent. But they didn't understand the truth buried within the truth.

As he subtly positioned himself to look at the colonel's desk, he saw Roy humming serenely to himself, but the office was still empty. And then he saw, sitting on the windowsill, his golden hair bursting as if a flame, was Edward, watching the sun set over Central City. His face was obscured from Al's, but his shoulders were slumped, and his hands were tucked into his pockets. He wasn't prowling the streets of the city like a tiger.

He had a promise owed his brother. He had a score to settle with Truth. He had debts due to Winry, Granny, everyone.

Al smiled, before he pushed himself out of his seat, verbally announcing his awakening, and he attempted to mimic his brother as best as he could, "Ed I'm starving! Who wants to launce around in the bastard colonel's…" Al interrupted, turning politely to Roy. "No offence meant, Sir!"

"None taken, Alphonse," Roy steely replied, without lifting his eyes from his notes.

"Let's get something to eat, Brother!"

And then Ed turned towards him. Al was rewarded with a scowl.

"Fine…" his brother grumbled, before snatching the paper that Roy was working on, who the colonel let him, take willingly. "You win, Al, like you always do."

 _It's because you let me win, Brother. You're soft deep inside._ Al mentally teased before the Elric brothers left the office, side by side as it had always been.

And how it should always be.

* * *

Edward stormed out of the office back onto the streets of Central. All of the tiredness which had been draining through his body like rain sifted out of him as he tore at the list of suspects in his hand. He was going to find the Homunculi. Here and now. He didn't want to wait anymore. He couldn't.

Al was close by his side. Edward glanced back, and slowed his pace to match that of his brother's and he tried to breathe in deeply to abate the ripples of anxiety rippling through his body. This couldn't be it…Not as quickly as this.

Damn he didn't know how he should feel. Parts of him felt consumed by a fiery anger which surged through his body uncontrollably wanting to find Envy and make him pay for every drop of suffering his brother and friends had been subject to. And yet a part of him wanted to call it a day to curl up and sleep. That was the toll, Edward assumed, of grief. Every action and thought would cause his mind to be dragged into exhaustion, as if living in a memory was too painful to bear. The way to ease that burden would be to forget and lie down. And that would be it.

The streets were as busy as Edward would have expected it to be during the rush hour as all of the commuters tried to bypass the crowd to make it home to their families, to spend time with the ones they loved. Before the incident, he would have walked uncaringly through the centre of the crowds, the familiar clanking of Al's armour a gentle reminder that he wasn't alone, and reminding him of his purpose with each step that he took. However, in the late afternoon in winter, he was so tempted to walk down inconspicuously down the side of the path, avoiding the crowds, and hood drawn up around him. Tactile would be the presence of Al next to him, as it always was.

His brother was so close, but so far…

"Brother, is something wrong?" Al asked softly as they waded around the tides of people heading in their direction.

"Fine, Al, just thinking." _Of course Al noticed, you dumbass,_ Edward's thoughts ricocheted in his head and he quickly tried to let his tense shoulder muscles loosen. He wished he could tell his heart to stop working overtime. He could relax. Everything was going to be alright…but could it…

Edward suddenly found his feet moving against their will, and a force on his cloak's hood. Al was dragging him down a side alley until it was just them two alone, his golden eyes were blazing. At least they finally had some privacy.

"I know exactly what you're thinking, Brother. And I don't need to read your mind to know that," Al turned away as he mentioned it. Edward brushed aside the younger Elric's bizarre comment, and focused on what he had to say next. "There is no right thing to think or feel. Whatever you choose to do, I'll support you no matter what."

"Al, this is-"

"You won't carry this burden on your own anymore. How could you even think about me sitting back and watching you chase after Homunculi on your own? Goddammit Ed! Why do you have to be so selfish and stubborn?" Al's tone was ice. A warrior clad in starlight, he advanced towards Edward, but when the older Elric tried to mutter something in his defence, he was slammed against the wall by the force of his brother, knocking the breath from his lungs. Edward was dizzy in shock, the ground reeling beneath his feet. Al held him close in a chokehold, but his arms were shaking. In the amber light cast by the Sun, his skin was iridescent and gold, as if he was the child of an angel.

Suddenly, Edward heard his brother yelp in surprise as the weight was lifted from him. Edward slipped to the floor and quickly scrambled to his feet, trying to find his balance and locate the figure who had forced Al to the ground. But all that was visible in his peripheral vision was a blur of movement and elongation of shadow. The person moved as swiftly as an assassin. Edward's stomach blanched. Without thinking, he kicked out with an automail foot, metal singing through the air, but Edward forgot the fact that he was tucked in an alley. Alleys were very narrow, and his foot collided into the wall, sending shooting pains along his port. His back was against the wall.

Air whipped past him as a kunai knife sank into his clothes and coat above his head, and another on one arm, and another by his torso holding him in place. As he tried to wriggle free, he only became more embedded in the tangles of darkness that surrounded him. He pulled against the force of the knives, but it was like trying to move a hulking suit of armour who didn't want to be moved. The simple answer was: you couldn't move it. Edward had enough memories of that certain scenario with Al…

"Who are you?" a heavily accented voice said sharply. A feminine voice and belonging to someone young. Edward winced internally as he thought about how he recognised that type of voice. It was from a bittersweet, heart-breaking memory of a little girl and her pet dog who loved to make daisy chains in the afternoon sunlight. Nina.

"Everyone knows me. I'm more curious to find out who you are?" Edward responded nonchalantly. She heard the owner of the voice breathe in, as if she was trying to control her nerve.

"The Philosopher's Stone. An immense source of Chi. I need it, and you have it. So _give_ it to me, before you are hurt," the girl's voice was quivering, Edward realized. She was nervous and afraid, driven to desperation by fear crawling inside of her like a spider inching towards a sufferer of arachnophobia, where fear overrides every ounce of free will that that person may have had. Gone.

"It's a dream, and a monster," lilac eyes burnt in Edward's mind and the sonorous melody of Envy's evil laughter filled the air in his head. "But I don't have what you're looking for!"

"Explain… _him,"_ the shadows seemed to point at Al, who had silently wandered to Edward's side. The jagged sun rays glistening down the alley had passed over the horizon minutes ago, covering Edward in darkness, so he could barely distinguish his brother's figure in the scant light. He felt like a child afraid of the dark stumbling around for a light to make the nightmares vanish and go away.

"You're an alchemist," Edward gasped. He turned to look at Al and even in the midnight blues and greys that littered his vision; he could see his brother's golden cropped hair like a lighthouse beacon. Al's eyes however were intent and focused on the voice.

" _Alkahestrist._ Not like you Amestrians," she spat out the last word, her verbal trail evident with her dislike for alchemists in Edward's native country. She wasn't from around her, as Edward had guised from her thick accent and strange vocabulary. She spoke Amestrian as though the words were strange on her tongue, as if she was experiencing a new flavour of food in which she hadn't decided if she liked it or not yet. That meant she had come to Amestris recently. And she had had a bad experience with Amestrians before. Or more specifically, Amestrian alchemists.

"You know…we knew a little girl, my brother and I. She was gentle and kind and had a heart of gold. She was the victim of an accident. She was chained into an eternity of pain and suffering by her father. And then she was murdered by an alchemist. Still she never hated a single person. She didn't bear a grudge despite the grudges she should have held, after all she had been forced to endure," Al was speaking next to Edward, but it was as though Edward was deep underwater, and he couldn't hear Al. He could only see his brother's lip movements and painstaking expression as he answered to the shadow.

As Edward had thought about Nina, so had Al.

"Who are you?" the voice repeated disdainfully, although for some reason, Edward felt that the tension was slipping away from the air. The girl's tone was not as harsh as it had been before.

"Some know us as alchemists. Others know us as boys," Al replied. "But we're just a pair of brothers. The Elric brothers," he added. How could Al say it without sounding boastful? Edward's eyelids flickered with a trace of annoyance.

"Do you mean…" the voice squeaked, "That you are truly…Mr Edward?"

The shadows that were cast around the figure stepped to the side, and the form of a petite girl replaced what had been a corner swathed in darkness before. She had her long black hair securely tightened into two braids, she was wearing a traveller's pouch and a strange black and white cat sat perched, growling, on her shoulder. And she was even shorter than Edward, probably due to the fact that she appeared to be several years younger than him, with the cheerful way that she walked. Her coal black eyes glistened despite the lack of light as she walked forward in evident awe towards Al. She stepped with the lithe grace of a cat, the grace of a warrior, who could walk unheard across water if she wanted to. And as Edward watched her, he regarded her as an equal, an alchemist in her own right.

"You're the Fullmetal Alchemist?" she murmured, her tone reflecting the denial she must have been feeling. She was blushing as she bowed towards Al. "My name is May Chang, princess-"

"I'm not Edward," Al chuckled lightly and he raised a finger to point her in the right direction. "He's the Fullmetal Alchemist."

A pair of surprised eyes immediately turned to face his pair. However, that wasn't what bothered Ed. It was the way that Al had called him by his State Alchemist's name, so trustingly, a name of a person that someone could have complete faith in, the firm belief in a hero that couldn't fall. All heroes had to be human though.

And then May's confused gaze turned back to Al. "Your brother. I can't believe it. Your brother!" tears started to brim in her eyes. She hesitantly moved towards Edward, and removed the knives which were keeping him held with his back against the wall.

What was with the sudden sympathy?

Of course.

Anyone else would assume that Alphonse Elric was dead, and the gentle relic of his consciousness only resided in his friends' memories, and the deeds he had granted across Amestris. To a traveller, he would be the article in a newspaper, the late evening gossip of one who had been "too young" to pass away from this world. This was the first time since arriving in Central since Al had been out on the streets – any alchemists who would see him, or Homunculi, would know that he was not completely dead. And if May could sense his soul's presence, then couldn't that apply to others to? Al was in danger, and Edward had been the reckless one, stampeding out of the office like a child who didn't get their own way to pursue the Homunculi, where he had no real roots to trace them to. He was such an idiot.

Edward shook his bangs so they obscured his face. Not that it mattered; it was hard to see in the rich velvety blackness which was beginning to settle over Central City. His golden hair was darkening in the fading light too and now resembled a shade of rich bronze. He next spoke to May, but didn't avert his gaze from his brother's, "The story of the little girl, Nina. She was real. I don't know as many people who are as kind and brave as she was. Except maybe one person. He gave his mind, body and soul to his purpose, even if he wasn't whole himself. He is my hero."

"Brother…" Al whispered as Edward buried his head onto Al's shoulder. There was faint warmth pulsing from Al, like a heartbeat. It was the blanket of security and promise that Al was there. Edward closed his eyes. Perhaps a reason why they were so close as siblings was not just because they shared the same dreams and ideals, but they admired each other's strengths that it fuelled them with a strength of their own to overcome the impossible.

He would return Al to normal.

If it hadn't been for May's quiet whimpering, Edward would not have remembered that she was standing by their side. He quickly stood up, and rubbed the loose tear away from his face. That was something personal between him and his brother. May took an item out of her pocket, a reddish liquid contained within a jar. Edward's eyes widened. He had seen the substance before. The Fifth Element. The Red Stone. The key to open the Gate between Heaven and Earth. The Philosopher's Stone. "Your brother has an aura just like this."

"How did you…" Edward's fingers were inching forwards, desperate to open the contents of the bottle and then he would clap his hands together and return Al to normal, just like that. The nightmare would diffuse over and the sun would rise again. The birds would resume their morning chorus, blissful and innocent as their sounds flew through the sky. Clouds would drift past, trapped to the sky's ceiling like tattoos. And he would be able to smile a genuine smile once again.

But he had not been a part of Al's bargain with Truth. Edward didn't even know what that bargain entailed. Edward wanted to find out, but the memory of it frightened him terribly. He could hear the thunder crashing around in the sky, hear Envy's manic laughter, feel the weight in his ports become uncomfortable as the rain started to fall…so cold…He could heart metal smashing into a thousand pieces…parts of Al scattered everywhere, and the cool touch of a hand with no pulse…amid the thrum of rain and more rain, shooting down from the heaven like bullets.

 _No…don't take my brother away from me…please, please!_

"No!" Edward screamed, and he lashed out with all four limbs at May, screaming and yelling and kicking at the stranger in front of him. She wanted to hurt Al and take him away forever. He wouldn't let her. His eyes were bloodshot as his mind worked on adrenaline and fear, his arms jerking in random directions as if they were against his control. Anything would work, anything for self-defence. He would protect his little brother from harm. He had failed with his mother, he had failed with Nina…he had failed everyone…

"Edward!" Al called, and Edward's limbs suddenly became useless, and dropped to his sides. His body was heaving, his chest aching, and he slipped to the floor into Al's hold. Al was talking to him slowly and Edward focused on the lull of his voice, acting as a grappling hook to stop him from becoming lost and trapped in that sea of memory. "I'm here, Ed. Everything's alright…I'm alright...nothing is going to hurt you here."

Only heroes would step into the void. Only heroes could drag the broken and battered remains of a person from a sea, and wouldn't stop until that person was safe. Al would go to Hell for Edward, as they had many times for each other.

Edward blinked and shifted his position so he was sitting upright. May was still there, except that she was sitting legs crossed, and she was staring at the metal surface of a kunai knife in her palms. The Philosopher's Stone was placed on the ground in front of her, and she was staring into its ruby depths, as though it was hypnotic.

"Where did you find this, May?" Al asked.

May's face was lined with determination. But she didn't look at Edward as if he was a child needing pity, or a feral animal. She regarded him with a look of elegance and poise, as if she considered him an equal as well. They had an unspoken mutual respect for each other, alchemists trying to protect their lot. "The scar-faced Ishvalan. He planned a raid in Central two days ago. I caught him fleeing the scene. He told me he needed the Stone to save his people, but I could see it in his eyes. The flames of vengeance. He was a murderer, and the Stone in his possession could have reaped havoc for those people he had sworn to protect. And so I stole the Stone after letting him go. But that wouldn't stop him from reclaiming what he had lost. I was beginning my journey back to Xing when-"

"Scar?" Edward's teeth gritted in anger. He hated Scar almost as much as he hated Envy. He had not seen or heard of the Ishvalan in a long time. Both were murderers of the innocent. Scar had killed Nina.

"Scar cannot be the priority now, Brother. There could be a possible supplier of the Philosopher's Stone," Al's voice shook, like the flickering of flames. "Where did this happen, May?"

"By the train docks…the military came in so quickly though. As soon as it had happened, everything stopped," May swallowed and her voice was lost before she regained her courage, "None of this makes any sense!"

"There have been no reports on this incident in the Colonel's office," Al mentioned, as his fingers started to rub against his temple. "It's like someone higher up wanted to make sure nobody knew about this, and they had access to a Philosopher's Stone, or multiple ones."

Edward could feel the warmth being sapped from the air as true darkness started to settle over the city. The lights were twinkling from the buildings already; in the winter, there was only day and night, and evening barely existed. He could see the smoke clouds form with each breath, vanishing into the starry night, as if they were melting into the stars themselves. He looked up; the lights had swallowed the stars and with them the constellations and patterns he was familiar with tracing across the sky. That was what he loved about home: the winter nights spent watching the heavens. It reminded Edward when he had first learnt about the principles of alchemy during his month on Yock Island.

"Well, the bastard was right about one thing. This military is corrupt, and I bet that a certain violet-eyed monster is behind this," Edward said, his voice scorching. "Damn, we're going to have to tell the bastard about this, aren't we?"

 _Something's coming, Al. I can face it, but not on my own right now. Just stay by my side, and I will stay by yours. Would that be enough?_

Right now, they had to take this dilemma straight to Mustang.

* * *

 _Look at this, the longest update and a day early! And May has made an appearance too. There is a reason for that, which will be revealed in upcoming updates, as will the secret behind the automail! XD_

 _The plot of this story follows the canon storyline in Brotherhood until after Hughes dies, but instead of going to the Devil's Nest and Dublith, Ed, Al and Winry go to Rush Valley, but something called them away from visiting Izumi. Knowing Ed, he probably wrecked his automail. Again. However, that means Ed never met Greed, Ling or May. I hope this clears up the plot confusion a little :)_

 _Next update should be on Friday. Thank you for reading and for your support as always. I'll see you next time! ~ Dawn_


	19. Chapter 19

_Eating lemon tarts while watching the honeybees glide over the fields in Resembool. Home. This memory is like a sanctuary, a paradise. And I want to make it become a reality._

 _Does the rain always have to fall?_

* * *

Chapter 19

Roy did not take well to the news that the serial killer Ishvalan alchemist was rampaging about the streets of Central. And what made matters worse, and stranger, was that he knew nothing about it. There had been no reports or paperwork to fill in; being an officer at his ranking, that was the least of what he was expecting.

But he had been left in the dark, walking amid his own thoughts and conspiracies regarding this incident. How had the goddamn bastard snuck through the highly secure Central without raising a hair of suspicion with the MPs? What made matters worse was the Philosopher's Stone being involved.

With a weapon like that, even if Roy only knew about it through the myth, it would amplify an alchemist's abilities so they could reap proper destruction, like a scythe cutting through blades of grass that weighed no more than fluff. If Scar could utilise his destructive alchemy with that, Roy shuddered at the thought of how quickly one alchemist could send the city into anarchy and force the Amestrian military to remove their annexation over Ishval. The nation was too proud to accept a fate like that though. A bloody war would ensue, over a patch of barren, desert land that no sane Amestrian would want to inhabit. The land belonged to the hardy Ishvalan people, and they had every right to return to their temples and cities. They had left Amestrians in peace and so too had Amestris returned the favour. Until the Civil War had started.

Roy was flushed - too many… _too many_ lives had been lost during that bloody war. And as he thought of the murderous rampage of State Alchemists that Scar had been going on, he morbidly thought about the seeds implanted on the infertile lands of Ishval. Not the seeds for cultivation, but seeds that worked in the mind, and in which grew the flames of vengeance which fed on the pain and hatred on once innocent individuals – like Scar. He couldn't watch that happen again and be a pawn in one of the Fuhrer's "skirmishes".

He straightened his uniform in the mirror, checking to ensure his insignia was visible. Even if compared to Bradley he was a pawn, in his team, Team Mustang, he was the King in the chess game. The most powerful, and the weakest, character of them all. Glancing over his uniform, he shoved a hand into his pocket and dragged out the tattered address May had scrawled onto it with her exotic handwriting. As Roy twirled the paper around in his hands, his thoughts were occupied by the events of earlier that day.

 _"_ _Why did you bring a strange little girl and her pet into Central HQ, Fullmetal?" he had asked, trying to keep his tone as neutral and indifferent as possible, despite the curiosity that was churning around in his stomach like the tides._

 _"_ _She decided to come on her own accord, bastard. She basically would have followed us back if we hadn't let her come with us," Edward scoffed._

 _"_ _Hey, that isn't true!" the girl interjected, while Alphonse lifted his hand wearily onto his forehead. How he put up with the stubborn antics of his older brother day in day out never ceased to amaze him._

 _Roy coughed and straightened up. They weren't in his office or in the building for that fact – that would attract too much unwanted attention – and instead they had gathered in a picnic area which was abandoned in the bitter winter evening. It was late, and there was coffee to be drunk with a splash of brandy too. He wanted to get this meeting over and done with. That was the tired and scowling part of Roy Mustang's mind, which counteracted his curiosity quite nicely._

 _"_ _My name is May Chang. I am seventeenth in line for the Crown in the nation of Xing," May curtsied politely._

 _"_ _And who is this cute little creature," Roy lifted a finger for the strange animal perched on her shoulder to inspect. The black and white creature sniffed, and turned her head indignantly away from Roy. Irritated, Roy poked the kitten in the shoulder, and before he could react, the kitten had opened its mouth to reveal glistening canines, and imbedded them into Roy's fingers. Damn he wished he had worn his gloves._

 _"_ _Xiao Mei stop that!" May hissed before the black and white kitten growled softly and dejectedly at the girl but loosened her grip on Roy's numb finger. May watched the kitten fondly. "She's a panda born with a condition that stunted her growth. I wouldn't have been able to cross the desert without her though."_

 _Roy only half-listened, as he tried to distract his attention from the throbbing in his index finger of where the cute, but vicious, panda had bitten him. Why didn't he wear his ignition gloves? There was a pair buried in his pocket. He always kept a pair on him when he didn't have Hawkeye by his side, even though he was very unreliable with wearing them correctly._

 _That sparked a thought in his mind. He was the Flame Alchemist. He could conjure fire with a snap of his fingers, and if he didn't warm up soon, he was going to freeze beneath the sycamore tree that they were standing under. Roy reached into his pocket and shoved his gloves on, letting weak flames spit from his snapping fingers, which burst onto a pile of decaying leaves. The pooling snow on top of them dribbled as it melted under the change in heat, and the leaves erupted into a larger fire that blended with the shadows, like a striped pelt, and hissed into the darkness like a tiger. He kicked feebly at the ground littered with twigs and fashioned them into the rough shape of a campfire, and shrugged his gloves off again._

 _"_ _You really are pathetic, Colonel," Edward sighed, and kicked some loose debris onto the pile as well. "First you don't like the rain, and now you don't like the cold. I've been more goddamn mature than you since the day I was born."_

 _"_ _Damn brat," Roy muttered, before he turned his attention away from the obnoxious pipsqueak standing next to him. He had had years of practice to polish up his pleasantries. If he could charm a person, he could easily get what he was seeking, which was usually information or leads. "So Miss Chang, what do we owe the pleasure of a visit from a Xingese princess?"_

 _"_ _Should I, Mr Alphonse?" May turned towards Al, who was leaning against the trunk of the sycamore, observing the scenario unfold. When Al looked apologetically at him and nodded his head slowly towards May, she reached into her pouch and pulled out the content that was the stuff of dreams._

 _The Philosopher's Stone._

 _The legendary catalyst that the Elric brothers had been searching for years for, sacrificing their honour and dignity, chaining themselves to the lives in the military in order to find a tiny, red Stone, one that could easily fit into the palm of a hand. Ironic, how something so small could reap huge consequences._

 _But here Edward was, inches from his goal. With a single clap of his hands, he could say adieu to his automail limbs forever and bring Al back into this world. What was he waiting for?_

 _And then Roy remembered. Edward couldn't do that. The older Elric brother wouldn't be so selfish and use the Stone for his own purposes, not until Al was safe and whole. Could alchemy even be performed on Alphonse in his state? Roy couldn't predict a guess._

 _Most importantly though, was Edward's own reluctance to do one thing. He had cried on the hilltop at the day of his brother's funeral and accepted the death that had come to pass, even though Alphonse wasn't fully dead. But there was something deeper, a niggling at the backs of Edward's eyes that Roy could see if he looked closely enough. It was the self-loathing prickle of guilt that was as sharp as knives in his eyes. Edward blamed himself still; he blamed the Fullmetal Alchemist and alchemy for all the sorrow that had been cascaded down their winding road. For the science and law that he had trusted his life in, he had been rewarded with nothing._

 _That didn't seem equivalent to Roy, but that was the truth of the world. Nothing was equivalent._

 _Bitterness surged through Roy as he took the vial a little too roughly from May's outstretched hand. He shook the contents a little, and the viscous liquid swirled in its container, particles dancing in the centre like powdered mist, almost like stars, unattainable dreams. "Where did you find this?"_

May had then recounted the events of her incident with Scar, and the unexpected package that he was carrying at the train docks. Roy vaguely recollected that some MPs had to be dispatched to arrest a man for an incident involving shoplifting, but that was something minor. An alchemist dealing with Philosopher's Stones was perhaps the most dangerous enemy Amestris had to contend with. Even though Amestris was a nation renowned for being brilliant on the offensive in combat, that was also this nation's greatest weakness; they had a terrible defensive. And an unexpected attack within using the weapon of alchemy in a way that soldiers would not be expecting…would be devastating.

He was grateful that the princess had trekked across the desert when she did and had her run-in with Scar. Without that happening, events would have spanned out differently, Truth forbid, he didn't want to know.

The clock read 23:30. He was due to meet May at midnight by the train docks to investigate the area. He had a job that needed to be done.

Roy slipped his black coat and scarf on, tucking them closely to his neck. His fingers curled around the gun he had taken from Hawkeye's weapon drawer. Hers were cleaned and prepared for battle, unlike his shabby guns with broken holsters and jammed triggers. He would have to face her death threats for a month after this, but with what he was doing, he felt he could insinuate himself out of that situation. He was going to be reckless and follow the trail until he reached the source of the Philosopher's Stones.

Roy knew it was going to be the Homunculi. He was reckless and a fool but…he had people that needed protecting. He was the dog tracing the scent of a bone which was situated in the den of a monster.

As he discretely left the HQ behind, ensuring he was not being followed by taking overlapping paths and hidden entrances, he slipped past the barracks, and looked at the twinkling lights of those few people still awake. He only hoped that the Elric brothers were resting as well as the other members of his team. It was dark out, with neither moon nor stars out to light his way.

They would have to be ready. If this mission went badly, he would need their immediate back-up. He grasped at Fuery's radio secured firmly to his belt.

A clock somewhere echoed the toll of the time – quarter to midnight. He had fifteen minutes left. Quickening his pace, keeping his breathing regular, Roy diffused into the darkness of the shadows, the clomp of his boots fading into silence, his breath that misted the air vanishing as he took to the side alleys and streets of Central. His second home. He paused for a moment, with his hand tracing the wall by his side, as he glanced backwards over his shoulder at the gleaming Central HQ.

But there was no more time to hesitate.

It was time to re-enter Hell.

* * *

There wasn't any point in trying to sleep. Edward hadn't bothered to crawl into the dingy covers of one of the bunk beds that he had been issued by the colonel. The dorm contained the bare necessities, including the bunk bed, study area, bathroom and kitchenette crammed into one living space, too close in proximity to be classified as "cosy". They had a dorm fitting a soldier with the lowest ranks, but he was a State Alchemist. _Major Edward Elric._ The words tasted foreign and bitter on his tongue.

Edward stared at the ceiling, or in this case, the upper bunk. Al had the top bunk as he had always had when they were younger. He had hated to admit that he was humiliated when he lost to Al – every single fight – but now, he had given the bunk up willingly, without much of a protest. Well, maybe a little. Every rebuke and angry comment he hurled back zapped the energy from him as if it was an effort to be his normal, hot-headed self.

But that wasn't the main thought racing through his mind.

He was lying on top of the covers, his automail ports cold and numb. His arms were resting beneath his knotty, loose hair. He had tossed and turned, his eyes closed, and then his eyes open, thoughts a blur. Anxiety welled in his stomach like a pit.. His skin itched, limbs heavy and exhausted, wanting to settle into an easy sleep. But his mind couldn't stay still for even a second.

The room was silent except for the moaning of winter's wind outside, and the soft murmur of footsteps of military members slinking from their evening patrol back to their dorms for a twelve hour sleep. It felt like seconds ago since the last set of soldiers had made their way back to the dorms. How long had they been in here for?

A clock tolled, chiming and ringing loose into the night. Twelve times it tolled. That meant it was midnight.

Today was the day that they were going to join May and track down the source of the Philosopher's Stone. And Edward knew that the source would end up being the Homunculi. He couldn't run from his nightmares any longer, especially when that nightmare was a fringe of reality; until he overcame and accepted that he would have to fight that beast, the monster Envy, and then he could never move forward.

Ever since that day though, Edward's morale had been as overcast as a stormy sky. It was hard for the Sun to break through…even harder when his thoughts were so bleak and dark. It wasn't his fault. He had experienced a trauma that not even the Fullmetal Alchemist could arise unscathed from. Every person had a weakness, and his was that he dedicated his life and soul to other people. And when something happened to that person, it was like his own soul was shattering into a thousand pieces. Nobody was as strong as diamond.

Al.

He raised an automail fist and aimed it towards his left arm. His eyes were streaming with tears and his jaw was clenched. He wouldn't make a sound despite the courses of agony rippling through him. He winced as the lance of pain shot through him, nervous energy causing his stomach to spasm and twist. Edward closed his eyes as the tide of nausea engulfed him.

This waiting was the worst part. It made him think about things that he didn't want to think about, haunting reminders of his past. His present. His future. He would have to…come face to face with that monster again. Edward wanted to run outside, away from his head and swirling thoughts by searching for a fantasy. He wanted to scream his anger, his fear, and his pain into the night and not hold it inside anymore.

But all he could do was cry. Goddamn _cry_ like a _child._

And then it hit him. Straight in the face.

He was being kept here in the dorms like a child going to bed early. He was being kept here so he wouldn't know what the adults were doing. He was being kept in the dark for his own protection.

 _Mustang's going on the mission by himself,_ Edward thought intuitively, as strong as a gut feeling as he could have. The last words that the colonel had told him started to whisper in his mind:

 _"_ _It will all be over soon, Ed. I promise."_

It was just going to be sooner than he expected. Sooner than _any_ of them had expected. And Envy was ruthless, merciless…he would-

Images of blood spatters and rain flashed in his mind.

"YOU BASTARD!" Edward shouted at the top of his lungs. He wiped his lips, leapt out of bed, already fully dressed, rubbing his eyes disdainfully but the tears wouldn't stop, why wouldn't they stop? He grabbed for his cloak resting on the back of the desk chair. The world was a blur around him, giddying vertigo. Edward felt faint and sick still, but he had to warn the…couldn't wake up…couldn't worry…

And the tears flowed freely down his face.

Just let the rain fall.

 _Storms always pass through._

Edward paused and became rigid, looking around the room. There was complete silence, except for the sounds of the wind and clock and his accelerated heartbeat. And then it came again.

 _Your only fault is caring too much. That isn't even a fault. You shouldn't be ashamed of it._

That voice, it was a gentle ring in his mind, like a breath of sunshine. It reminded Ed of spring and cherry blossoms and ripening strawberries. There was neither spite nor bitterness to its tone. It was a private memory, reserved only for Edward.

 _Do you remember the lemon tarts that she used to bake?_

He did remember. They had tasted greater than any sweets they had bought from the market. The only sensations of taste that could compare were stew and Winry's apple pie…

 _Coated with sugar and large dollops of fresh honey. Mum always made the best._

"She always did, Al," Edward finished. He slumped to the floor, his legs useless. As quietly as a ghost, Al wrapped a dimly glowing arm over his shoulder, like a halo of light. Warm…paradise…His tears were flowing, but his breathing had slowed down. He wanted to stay like this forever…

But Mustang…

"Al, we have to go," Edward tried to move, but his legs slipped. His stomach clenched again and as he retched, he swallowed the bile rising unwillingly in his throat. This time…he didn't feel the overwhelming nausea he experienced minutes ago, and at the funeral. It felt like a weight was lifting from his stomach, as loose as balloons. His anxieties drifting away as he dreamt of the childhood memories when his world had been paradise and bliss.

"I know, Brother."

"Will you come with me?" He sounded pathetic, weak, a creature of pity. But he didn't want his brother to leave his side, not when Al was one of the only strings keeping him attached to his reason.

"I'll be by your side no matter what, Brother."

"I…never want to be alone again. It hurt and the pain became worse, it would never go away…"

 _The pain won't fade now. But one day, we'll watch the dawn, and you'll realize that it has gone. I can't promise when, but I promise you'll see paradise again, Brother._

Edward was shakily helped to his feet by Al. But as soon as he had found his footing, he felt strength flowing back through his veins towards the door. First he had to find Hawkeye and Fuery and Havoc…

A wan smile stretched over his lips, golden eyes dim as flames in the darkness. He could take one step forward at a time. He would get there.

That sunrise was waiting just beyond the horizon after all.

* * *

His gloves itched in his pocket. He wanted to snap his fingers in every direction and try to banish the tension from the air. His lips were pursued, adrenaline coursing through his blood. He was ready.

Somewhere, a clock struck midnight. Twelve tolls, each separately piercing through the night sky like a blade.

Roy turned around, his senses heightened. He couldn't discern much in the darkness except for industrial waste and storage buildings, with construction equipment lying abandoned for the night, ropes and steel. Somewhere in the distance, a raven cawed.

"Colonel Mustang," a voice hissed through the shadows. Roy prepared his fingers for a snap, pivoting around on his feet. He swore under his breath, panic fading, as he realized that it was May.

"I'm glad you could make it, Miss Chang," Roy greeted formally, keeping his voice to as low a whisper as possible. He glanced from side to side, cautious that he was being watched.

May darted lithely towards him, half his size and twice as agile. Her coal black eyes glowed like orbs in the night as she looked up at him. "Are you ready, Sir?"

"More than I'll ever be…" Roy trailed off. May was already walking confidently ahead, swaggering a little, as if she knew the route by heart.

Strange.

Roy took another step forward, but the Xingese princess was apparently oblivious. The members of royalty in Xing had trained to heighten their senses through detecting some current in the earth…he had read it in a book a long way away a long time ago. But he was sure of that fact. He had had to specialise his training in the circumstance that he would have to battle a Xingese warrior.

The girl suddenly stopped. She turned around, beaming at him. A smile that was a little too wide for her delicate features.

And he noticed. On her shoulder, that bloody panda she admired and almost swooned over, the creature who was her "best friend" and "like a sister". The panda was not sitting on her shoulder.

This person wasn't May Chang.

 _"_ _Oh, you've spoilt the game, haven't you, Colonel Mustang,"_ May-not-May said so sinisterly and wickedly, Roy felt that the voice was probing at his most personal thought in his mind, infiltrating through his weaknesses. A spark of red, alchemy.

He went to snap his fingers, but suddenly the fabric was in shreds by his feet. The air was suddenly knocked out of him.

 _"_ _It's a shame you always have to lose. Humans."_

* * *

 _Chapter 19 is up! Cliffhanger and angst - what better way to spend a Friday? XD And don't worry - the next part will be up on Sunday :D_

 _Thank you for reading and reviewing everyone! I couldn't do it without you guys XD_

 _I hope the weekend fares well for you all! ~ Dawn_


	20. Chapter 20

_I can run and I can hide, but like how the Moon pulls at the tides, I cannot escape you._

 _I cannot run from the Truth forever._

* * *

Chapter 20

This was not the way he had wanted it to be. For so long he had dreamed, longed for the moment that he would finally get his body back. He knew his body was alive out there – somewhere – and that belief had kept his hopes alive, his soul alive.

All of those sleepless nights rusting in that hollow suit of armour would lead to this day, this perfect moment. Al believed in it like the swallows which migrated back home, knowing winter's grip on the land was not eternal. Spring was waiting to blossom in its seed.

However, it was autumn closing in on winter. The nights were long and yawning, the days dreary and cold. The sun smiled frostily upon the earth, whenever it did shine, since churning grey clouds dominated the skies in November. And a storm was brewing.

He couldn't feel it, but he could almost _sense_ the tingle of electricity pulse through his soul, as if warning him, telling him to stay away. The storm would come and with it the inevitable promise of rain. Al had to be the strength for this big brother. He had had his doubts, but he knew he would never leave Ed to face the rogue alchemist alone. This was going to be something that they did together.

If Al had been told that morning that this was the day he was going to get his body back, he would have screamed.

The overwhelming sense of foreboding would have made him sick if he possessed a physical body.

Pain lashed in his mind like the still air which filled with a drizzle, and suddenly the winds were crazy with rain whipping around him. The world was a blur of rain and mud and grey.

He remembered…seeing his brother wounded, bleeding, dying, and he had screamed that Ed had been injured and he had been helpless to prevent it. But he was weak-minded since it was Envy and then Envy attacked Ed in reality. Al couldn't transmute like his brother, and the chalk that he procured from his pocket seemed to dissolve into his gauntlets as he tried to draw a transmutation circle. The wind howled angrily around him. He could hear the singing and clashing as metal sang against metal in the frigid sky.

There wasn't enough time. Al hastily scrapped the chalk residue into a circle, and smashed his gauntlets against the array, and the alchemy beamed blue in the light as rock pillars spiralled forth from the ground and hurled themselves at Envy. Envy dodged them with minimum effort before he advanced towards Edward again.

Brother…he wasn't clapping. That was what he should have been doing now. That was what he would always be doing in a fight now. It had only been this morning that he had been complaining about his automail. Why hadn't Al _insisted_ that Ed have his arm tuned up? In this stormy weather, when the pressure in the air was as dense and thick as invisible fog, the chances of his automail gumming up or malfunctioning multiplied by many times.

Edward's arm was dead, limp. Al didn't think…but he reacted. Brother had never beaten him in a fight, so he was going to weigh the odds against battling a Homunculus. Or that would be what Envy thought. Al would run towards Envy, as if aiming for a head-on attack and then transmute to distract the Homunculus before retreating to get Ed back to safety. Roy and his team would help them since knowledge from a Homunculus could be invaluable. And they loved the Elric brothers…including stubborn and hot-headed Edward. Sometimes…Al thought…as he watched the banter being thrown back and forth between superior and subordinate was that there was a closer relationship beneath the first layer. One had to look closely, but the signs were obvious. Hawkeye and Havoc and the others saw it plainly too.

Ed and Roy acted as son and father in a way that Edward would never have expected, but deep down, in a way that he had wanted all along, since their father abandoned them and their mother on the house on the hill in the days that Al couldn't even remember. And Al was so grateful to have found a place in Resembool and even a place in this military campus that he could call home. The people that surrounded them made it so.

They had found their places to call home. Even if they scoured the country searching for the Philosopher's Stone, they had each other, and a home waiting for them at the end of their journey. The Elric brothers would come walking back home together, and everyone would celebrate throughout the night and day. It was going to be a happy ending.

That was why it couldn't end like this.

Back in the fight, Al knew that his armoured legs were moving too slow. Envy was advancing towards Edward at an inhuman pace, despite the huge mass that he was carrying. Edward was struggling, trying to move away but the predator had cornered his prey and Ed was going to-

 _No. Never._ A voice as clear as day rang in Al's mind at that moment, like a breath of sunshine, or the gentle tide lapping against the shoreline. He had a promise to keep to his brother that they would get their bodies back… _together._ And he trusted Ed more than he did anyone else. The bond they had formed meant that didn't ever have to be expressed with words. _Nobody would hurt Brother ever again._

Perhaps that was worth breaking his promise to his brother if it meant Edward could feel the Sun and be there when the first buds of spring started to break through on the trees.

But Al wanted to make it in time. He wanted to punish Envy and flee with Ed so they could become stronger again, and when they returned with their allies they would be able to defeat the Homunculus. He didn't want to leave this world behind. Not ever.

Envy had a gun in his hand. Al heard the clatter of gunfire as a cascade of bullets was launched from the trigger. Ed was in its direct line of sight, Al could see out of his helmet's peripheral vision. With a final burst of energy that shook through his soul, his armour stretched forward. He grabbed for the paper with the array dripping with ink from his pocket, and touched it lightly with a gloved finger like a gentle kiss. But before the sparks of alchemy could crackle into the sky, the bullets hit him.

It wrenched at his armour, and Al felt like he was being severed, as if the balloons he was holding had been cut and were now flying free away into the sky ruled by the heavens. A second later, the feeling of being dissected overwhelmed him. His soul was working on overdrive, trying to connect the severed pieces back together, controlling what little iron was still attached in its reach. He felt like he was being cut into ribbons of a thousand pieces, speckles of armour falling from the sky like jewel-crusted rain while the Sun was nowhere to be seen.

His vision flashed white.

He heard a piercing scream, but he was being severed, not only from his armoured body, but from this reality. He felt light, without the heaviness or stuffiness of the suit of armour lumbering around wherever he had to go. Al was free to roam as he pleased.

Unwillingly, he opened his eyes…he opened his eyes! His eyelids fluttered open, but he squinted in surprise at what he saw. A brilliant radiant white light filtered around him like freshly blowing laundry, but this light was almost harsh. And looming before him was a big, grey Gate.

He recognised it immediately, like how wolves recognised members of their blood. The feeling was innate, as deeply buried as his soul was. This Gate was his connection to alchemy, and all of the secrets that it shared within. His heart was racing…his living, beating heart! He wanted to cry in happiness; he could feel the tears welling in his eyes. But something stopped them…something buried deeper within.

Melancholy. Because Al had first wanted to shed tears by the side of his friends and family…by the side of his brother.

Why was he here?

And as he mind remembered the Truth, the figure appeared before him. Al remembered how could he have forgotten? The Truth had taken away Ed's leg, and then his right arm to call back Al's soul from this timeless void. The Truth had ripped his soul away from his body and left it astray to die for all it cared – it had been Ed who had saved him. And all for a peek into the Gate's contents.

No…they had never wanted the knowledge. They didn't care about what their skill in alchemy meant. What mattered was their mother.

They had failed…resurrection was impossible…even with a power like alchemy.

But Al's human transmutation had worked. He had had the sheet prepared for today. He would be willing to bargain for Ed's life – whatever the cost.

And now he was bargaining for his own. He was in his body – his body, his body, his beautiful body, missing to him for all of those years. Not that it would stay that way for long. Reality was cruel. The Truth was angelic in its power, but demonic in nature, like the flipside of a coin.

"You are here Alphonse Elric, even though you are supposed to be dead," the voice reverberated, laughing mercilessly while sounding thoroughly amused, like his life was some sadistic game.

"What about Ed?" Al called back, watching as Truth leaned against the Gate lazily.

"This isn't about Edward Elric, but about you, Alphonse Elric," it stated, its tone suddenly flat and bored.

"He's alive and unharmed, is that what you're saying?" Al asked, worry lancing through every syllable. He had to know that Ed…

There was a pause, and then: "Yes, you could say so."

Al breathed a sigh of relief. Ed was safe. That was what mattered. "And me…I'm not dead, am I? Did my transmutation circle work?"

A chuckle. "Of course it didn't, silly boy. Your soul was crushed from the armour, and so came scurrying back to its body seeking sanctuary. Everyone deserves to be whole when they die."

Al couldn't suppress the fury rising like bile in his throat, " _WHOLE?_ Like how you ripped Teacher's organs away from her body, like how you severed Brother's limbs as if he was a doll?"

"But you are not dead…yet," Truth muttered dryly, folding their arms across each other.

"What do you mean?" Al immediately questioned, perplexed to say the least.

"Your Gate hasn't shattered. That is what happens when you pass from this world into the void. But look…" And Al looked; there were cracks and dents in the framework of the Gate, which suddenly was as fragile as a blood seal.

"If I'm here…I'm not dead, but am I truly alive?" Al raised his own hand, which seemed to glow and shimmer in the iridescent light.

"Not yet," Truth pushed their body off the weight of the Gate, and started to approach Al.

"Not yet?"

"Not yet. There is one way for you to return to the world you so dearly love."

Truth's form shimmered, and in its place was a hill with laundry blowing in the breeze. The air smelt of lavender and fruit. He could hear the bees and the grass whistle in the hot summer air. He could see the shadows dance in the sunlight, flowers alive and in full bloom. And everyone he loved was there, even his mother. That was the _world_ that he loved, and the place he was desperate to return too.

And the image faded to be replaced with Truth. To his surprise, tears were streaming down Al's face. "How…"

"I am the World. I am the Universe. I am God. I am Truth. I am All. I am One.

"And I am also You." There was an emphasis on the last word which seemed more empowered than it should have been, as if Truth was mocking him. But Al's mind was blurry with tears from the vision he had just witnessed.

"What do I do?" Al's words were fumbled, lost and confused like a butterfly.

"Kill the one who tried to take your life. When the time comes, _you_ must be the one to kill the Homunculus called Envy. If the Homunculus dies by any other means, you too shall perish. And you only have a certain amount of time. Eternity is a precious thing, Alphonse Elric. But remember, this is your burden alone."

Al gasped – his mind was reeling. He didn't know Homunculi had existed until recently, and they were practically immortal. They were fed on human souls, powered by thousands of them in constant, relentless streams of energy. He was one human being with one fractured soul. Was there any way that he could do it?

When Al was younger, he would sit and cry in the dark by himself, whispering to the spirit of his mother, hoping she might hear him. Their father had abandoned them, Granny and Winry had lost so much already that he couldn't burden them. There had been no-one he could turn to, he had thought as he had sat crouched, his knees tucked closed to his chest, as he watched the rain fall out from the night sky from his bedroom window.

And then he had heard the door creak open. The hallway light would be turned on. He would hear the light patter of footsteps, a gentle sound in comparison to the lashing rain outside, mirroring the storm of sadness that was eating away at his heart. Ed had come up next to him, closed the curtains and sat beside Al. Al had leaned close to Ed's beating heart, and the sound had muffled out the rain and nightmares for him.

His brother's strength had helped him endure the sleepless nights, with an armoured body or not. He couldn't surrender on Edward now.

But what would his brother say? That he was being reckless, a fool and that it wasn't his burden to bear since he was the younger brother.

This was Al's mission.

Without speaking, he nodded his head towards Truth, who grinned a Cheshire smile, and the Gate suddenly creaked open to swallow him whole.

* * *

 _What is there to say about this chapter...except it contains a VERY IMPORTANT plot point. With Al's survival on the brink, Mustang captured and Ed's fragile mind breaking, goodness, this is breaking my heart._

 _We'll be back in the action next chapter and I look forward to seeing you all then (hopefully on Friday given I have the time!) as the finale approaches ^^ Many thanks for reading! ~ Dawn_


	21. Chapter 21

_The calm before the storm. The winds are beginning to rise, the tensions settling, preparations underway._

 _...My head hurts. This waiting is the worst part of it all._

* * *

Chapter 21

God he wished he could escape from this reality. Even for a second.

No…he shouldn't be thinking these things. That went against the promise he had made to Hawkeye and the others. Words unspoken. He had to get back to them…

Roy Mustang wasn't the one to fall. It was Ed and Al who had been on the journey to Hell and back…And now it was his turn.

Envy had him trapped. He was somewhere in Central…Envy had dragged him further away from the train docks but not far enough to have left Central. He had struggled, fought and writhed, but it was like Envy was entirely made of automail. Unmoving, unmalleable iron as if forged from the heavens. But Envy was a Sin, and if he had been to Hell, Roy was sure he would have seen that abomination there.

And now Envy was laughing at him. He was somewhere dark and cold, the dripping of frozen rain pounding from a ceiling above. He was in a derelict building, the distinctively familiar red pattern of brick surrounding him at every corner. Roy could barely see through the looming darkness.

For a moment, Roy wondered if this is what grief felt like in Edward's mind for the month after the funeral. Roy didn't fully have the time to grieve for Hughes, and perhaps he had grieved alongside Edward.

Maes wasn't coming back. Maes, his best friend, who had stayed by his side through it all. Well, he not through it all. Hughes wasn't like that. All that Roy needed was a phone call, the banter, and a brief visit to Central with a drink at Madame Christmas' and that would be enough. He goddamn missed the fool.

But Al could come back. He didn't want to see Ed ricochet into that wall of pain again that had threatened to kill the flame of hope in Roy so many times. He had to help Ed stop the pain that he had felt…

He growled through clenched teeth. Roy laughed weakly – he was in a lot of pain right now.

"Still nothing, Colonel Mustang?" Envy sang as he pulled at the chains holding Roy to the wall. This place was full of them – chains – and bricks and salt. It was damp and the place had no heating. It had been abandoned for a very long time. Envy had clearly prepared this place for some time, his little retreat for torture.

Roy could almost smell it in the air. Heavy and stifling, making him want to choke. It was worse than the chains dug in at his wrist and feet. The air was thick with blood. There were stains on the wall, smothered and fading. Some of the stains were more recent. Layers upon layers of blood building on top of each other like a tapestry, and none of it had been cleaned away, as if Envy left them as that on purpose like a sick trophy.

Envy was the most sickening creature he had ever met.

"I'll never tell you anything about the Elric brothers, bastard!" Roy said fluidly, meeting the Homunculus in the eye, lilac eyes which glittered with madness. This creature was more than a murderer, and wasn't even _human._

"I can't kill you; unfortunately, I have to keep you alive. You are valuable for your alchemic skill and information. But that doesn't mean that I _can't hurt you"_

"Enough talking bastard! Get it over with-" Roy had to stifle a scream as he heard the clear _snap_ of his arm breaking. It slumped uselessly to his side, like when Fullmetal's automail malfunctioned. Spiralling pain swirled up and along his arm, lancing through his body. He bit his lip, the metallic tang of blood strong on his tongue. Sweat dripped down his head. He had to save his team.

They would be coming for him anyway.

He had to hold on until then. If he escaped, they would be hurt. But by a thousand Hells, he was going to burn Envy when he knew everyone was safe.

Fullmetal needed his revenge on the Homunculus. Envy had planned it well – Roy was the perfect bait to snatch.

But Roy smiled wryly. His plan had been flawless – as usual.

He hoped his reactions had been enough to fool even the Homunculus, although Envy was too consumed by his bloodlust now to notice anything else. Roy wriggled his arm – tucked firmly above his heart, perfectly unbroken, while a fake arm he had transmuted resided in his sleeve, which Envy thought he had "broken". That was the arm that had broken – his right – because Envy assumed that was his dominant hand.

Yet when it came to transmuting, Roy was ambidextrous.

His team would be here for him soon. Until then, he would just have to keep pretending.

* * *

"Open up, Havoc!" Ed's fist pounded against the door. His body felt heavy, but all urge to sleep had drifted away as adrenaline had kicked in through his veins. Havoc had the dorm the closest to where Ed and Al's room was. And he wasn't damn answering!

To Edward's surprise, the door came loose after he had been pounding against it for several seconds. Without a moment of hesitation, Edward pushed his way into the room and glanced around quickly. Havoc wasn't there. It was ridiculously late and Havoc wasn't there!

However, as Edward turned around to race out of the dorms, he felt a light touch on his shoulder. Al. Al blinked softly at him and Edward paused, listening to his surroundings. Nobody else could make him calm like this. No…he wasn't calm. He was frustrated and angry and frightened….he couldn't let anything happen to Roy.

They had to get going.

"Listen, Brother," Al murmured. And as Edward focused his attention on the sounds of the night, he heard the quickly paced footsteps of someone.

He raced out into the hallway, and saw Havoc racing up to him. The Second Lieutenant looked up, surprised to see the Fullmetal Alchemist alone. Of course he wouldn't be able to see Al. Did Havoc know about Al? Knowing the Colonel, he would have reserved that information for Hawkeye. Havoc had absolute faith in Mustang as they all did, but the fewer people that knew about their secrets, the safer that Al would be.

"Chief – why weren't you waiting by the gates?" Havoc muttered breathlessly, and _grabbed_ Edward by his sleeve and started to drag him down a flight of stairs. But since Edward was still considerably shorter than Havoc, he had to jump down each second step if he had a chance at keeping up. Everything was quiet, except for his strained breathing and heavy footsteps which each landed with a _thud._

Edward had no idea what was happening, and was nearly numb from the shock.

"What do you mean? Havoc…Answer me!" Edward was still in shock but he forced himself to speak. When had the Colonel-

Wait. Was Havoc…Envy?

Oh God.

Panic started to swell and inflate in his chest like a balloon, and soon it became impossible to breathe. It couldn't be like this. He couldn't fight Envy here, not with all of these soldiers sleeping soundlessly in their dorms. He couldn't risk what Envy could do to them.

"Ask him about the time when you both stole the Colonel's lunch," Al supplied next to him. He had been quiet up until now, leaping down the stairs lightly by his brother's side. "That would prove that he is not Envy."

"How do we know that Envy can't manipulate memories though?" Edward hissed back, and little more than a whisper left his lips. He couldn't risk this Havoc hearing him.

"We will know if the memories are genuine. Envy cannot manufacture them. Like knowledge from the Gate," Al shuddered for a second. "They belong to us."

Edward suddenly paused. He raised his voice for Havoc to hear him and as a result, he was met with a few angry swear words from Havoc. But the Second Lieutenant didn't look mad – he always seemed to be so causal and prepared for what was to come – even if in truth, nobody had a clue. That was the look of Jean Havoc, a simple country boy from the East. He liked women, and money, and helping Hawkeye in any way to punish their superior. But he worked his damn hardest for his team.

Once a friend, forever a friend.

Havoc rubbed a hand though his hair, the other holding his gun, and took a step forward. "We have to go now, Chief."

Edward would have usually shrugged away the doubt in his mind and continued to follow Havoc. That was what he would have done in the past. But he was cautious and had to be sure. He could almost feel his nerves crawling beneath his skin like ants. They wouldn't scurry away until he had answers.

Roy needed him. Al needed him. Or perhaps he was the one who needed them. Friends…

 _"_ _Of course he's here, Ed. He is never going to leave you. If for a second you think that he is gone, then I'll personally slay you. He needs our help. We have to bring him back for good."_

That was the Colonel's voice. He trusted Havoc and Hawkeye. Edward trusted the Colonel and he trusted them. He trusted _all of them_. And the feelings in Havoc's grey eyes were not something any person could reproduce in an experiment; they were human. He trusted Havoc, their friendship concreted by their basic desire to survive and see tomorrow.

 _"_ _The world is beautiful, isn't it?"_ Winry…whom he trusted. She was sunshine and colour even when the sky was submerged in grey.

He wanted to watch the sunrise with her too…one day.

Not trusting Havoc was not like trusting her…not trusting Al.

These were people he could trust. Because Envy was a Homunculus. He didn't _understand_ that desire to survive; he didn't know what it meant to be human-

And that was when he realized. Havoc was Havoc. Envy could mimic humans, but he couldn't be one of them. He could wear a mask, but that did not disguise the ugliness beneath the exterior.

This was Havoc. The doubt washed away like a storm at sea subsiding.

"Nothing. Let's go." Edward said and started to run forward, overtaking Havoc.

* * *

A crooked smile brewed over Havoc's face, and he managed to pull out a cigarette from his pocket ready for the Colonel to light. This was the damn happiest he had felt in days. "Mission completed, Sir. He's coming back."

* * *

"Edward!" Fuery called out cheerfully across the courtyard, glittering with ice. The wind was mercilessly cold and biting. The Colonel's car was parked behind where he was standing. He was making adjustments to a tracking device which the Colonel was apparently wearing. Edward stared in amazement. Had the bastard really had this all planned out?

Hawkeye was sitting in the driver's seat, hands itching to set off and drive. Breda was finishing a sandwich while Havoc was polishing a rifle. They were waiting for Falman to return – something about having misplaced an important manuscript the Colonel had given to him. Damn ironic, considering the man's photographic memory.

The outside was too cold for Edward's automail. He hurried for the front passenger seats where Hawkeye sat with the door pulled open for him. He slipped in shortly followed by Alphonse.

"How did you get the courtyard at _Central HQ_ to be desolate?" Edward couldn't help but ask.

The Lieutenant merely shrugged, "It's winter and late. It's easy to convince people that staying inside is the better option."

Edward pulled his cloak around him snuggling in the red fabric the best he could. But his arms and legs, automail or not, were numb from the cold. He breathed deeply into the fabric – he smelt trains and warm and home. Hawkeye didn't say anything, and a peaceful silence ensued. Edward began to feel dozy and yet he didn't dare fall asleep. However, the wind kept him on edge – as if it was preparing to snatch on him when he was unprepared. He shivered and jumped back, opening his eyes warily in a guarded, crouched position, watching the skies outside.

"This waiting – I hate it," Edward sighed. The bags beneath his eyes had become so heavy that he felt like he couldn't keep his eyes open.

"By dawn, it would seem like a dream," Hawkeye replied solemnly. "Forgetting about this would be forgetting about reality."

"I agree," Al stated on Edward's other side. "I would rather carry the pain of memories around with me than know nothing."

Even after everything they had endured, there was truth in those words. "Yeah, you're right." He said in response to both of them.

And all at once, all four doors opened as four figures clambered inside. "Hey, why does he get to go in the front?" Havoc whined like a puppy.

"Because he is the highest ranking officer here, Second Lieutenant."

Edward had to stifle a laugh. Hawkeye was the only one who could shut up Havoc with a sentence, or even sometimes, just a stare.

* * *

Winry dug through the phonebook. There had to be a name here somewhere that was familiar…

Yes! She had struck gold. There was the address and phone number she was looking for.

It had taken her three whole days to find out about these leads. Granny had known little about this company, despite her expertise in all and everything automail related. Winry had had to ask around Resembool for anyone who recognised the company. It had been the blacksmith, Rhadun, who had known.

The company was a less well-established blacksmiths in Central. It was one that few people had heard about. But why had a blacksmith address appeared on Edward's automail delivery form?

Her eyes narrowed in confusion, and she hesitated at the dial. But these mysteries were not going to solve themselves and she braced herself for the first ring of the phone, winding the cord around her fingers like thread.

* * *

 _Two updates in a day? Yep...Friday was a complete blur for me as was yesterday...but today I'm prepared for updates! XD_

 _I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading! ^^_


	22. Chapter 22

_**I've moved on from you. I've got them.**_

 _ **I don't need this anymore.**_

* * *

Chapter 22

The storm had yet to come. But it would…soon.

As Edward watched the streets of Central City flash past in a blur of snow and shadow, Hawkeye hit the accelerator even harder. He was surprised it hadn't snapped apart yet. A journey that should have taken them nearly an hour was going to take them ten minutes. _It also helps that there is no traffic,_ Edward thought smugly.

The buildings that were rushing by from the car, even if they were swathed in darkness and lost amid the trails of ice and snow, still looked familiar. The last time he had come here was in a cramped taxi with Al…

His headache, once minute enough to ignore, had multiplied like a bacterial growth in his mind. He wanted to lie down in that car and forget about it all. Turn around and not have to come back to his place.

He was finally coming back to his place. The place of his nightmares. This was the nightmare which left him screaming every time he closed his eyes and woke up for over a month. This was the nightmare which had kept him mute for a week. He didn't like to think about that time. That had been after he went to the coroners. And now he could even pass a joke or two, even in the enormity of their situation. He had come so far…

And yet Edward felt like he had progressed nowhere, since here he was, returning to Envy's grasp. Envy would be waiting there for him, for Al, and would be waiting to slit their throats for good this time, and no bargain with Truth could save them-

Damn he had to stop thinking like this. It was just…he was so afraid. He could deny it all he wanted, and even if he never spoke the words, they were still true. He was afraid about what would happen. He was afraid that he could die, and that the others around him would be hurt as well.

But this moment was theirs. And that was due to the Colonel. Edward had been filled in by various voices about reports of Homunculi streaming in through Mustang's office since the funeral had occurred. While Edward had been cooped up in Resembool, Roy had been hunting for clues and leads on the Homunculi, putting even the best detectives to shame. And with the information from the Xingese princess he had worked out the base of Homunculus, Envy.

It was in the very place that Al had been-

The members of the team didn't mention that, but Edward knew. He could feel Al's warmth press against his shoulder as he started to shiver uncontrollably, and it wasn't due to the cold.

So Roy had put himself forward as bait. He wouldn't let anyone else do it. He was stubborn and reluctant and too similar to Edward that it annoyed him thoroughly. However, Fuery had attached a tracking device to the Colonel, and from the train docks, they would be able to track where Roy, and the Homunculus, lead to. Luckily it wasn't underground; otherwise all traces of them both would have been lost.

A lot of their success relied on chance. God had never been on his side before, but Edward hoped, he would even _pray,_ that he could be on the side of the angels for once. Even if he had fallen and he would have to live in Hell for eternity for the price of it.

Losing wasn't an option. But Edward was so afraid that it would be his fault. He had been too weak to the first time, and he couldn't pathetically pass a day now without crying, when before, he hadn't cried in four years. He thought that the floodgates of pain and emotion couldn't be closed now that they had opened.

He really was hopeless.

And yet…here these people were around him, risking their lives for him.

Edward was a prodigy despite everything. He knew why the Colonel and his team were doing this. It was not only to track down a dangerous Homunculus. To them, that would be their only reason, but it wasn't even the most important one. There were people that they needed to save. And that person…was him.

Positive Fuery, wistful Falman, snarky Breda, stoic Havoc, dangerous Hawkeye and…bastardly Mustang. Very appropriate.

They were all risking their lives for him. And even Al wouldn't leave him behind. He was never alone.

His thoughts went to Winry. She had lost bother parents too. And she didn't have any biological siblings to lean on. She was the oldest and the youngest, the bravest and the naivest. She had to pull the weight on her own, especially living with Granny Pinako barking at her heels, even more viciously than a wolf. What would she be saying right now?

 _"_ _Grow up, dummy,"_ Edward laughed at the thought. Thinking about Winry made him feel warm there in the freezing car, experiencing warmth in a way he hadn't experienced it before. It was a tingle, mellow and sweet, like a lemon with all of its bitterness sapped out of it. There was only happiness and bliss and summer and that eternal warmth, the twinkle of blue eyes, the skipping of feet, and the swish of platinum hair. That was Win, the woman whom he had once loved as a sister. And now…Edward blushed, his mind catching up with his feelings.

Oh.

Was that it?

Did he…love her?

His eyes widened in surprise. He had been staring into space, dithering as his attention meandered. He looked around suddenly at the back of the car. Everyone glanced back at him; eyes alight with courage and intrepidly, eyes that belonged to the people that he trusted with his life. He wanted to stay by their sides forever and protect them.

How was moping going to preserve that?

 _But…what if you fail? What if you not only get your brother killed this time, but also your friends…your_ family _killed too? What are you going to do then, little Fullmetal Alchemist?_ His headache manifested into a voice. He couldn't quite discern who that voice belonged to. It was horrifically familiar, a ghoul that had long expired their time meant for this earth. It sounded strange and foreign, even though it came from his mind.

 _They chose to help you. And what are you going to give them in return? Gravestones?_ The voice was crueller and more brutal than Truth. It didn't belong to any person, or any _entity,_ that Edward had met. He didn't understand how he recognised that voice. And yet, as the vision of the car vanished around him as he was swallowed into black, he began to realize. This was the voice…

 _We've met many a time. You can never escape your own mind, Edward Elric._

He was in a place of pure black, the stark contrast of Truth's void. This place was a sea of despair, skies darker than night where neither the moon nor stars could shine. It was covered up for eternity with storm clouds, storm clouds which refused to pass through. This was his nightmare.

Grief.

 _You cannot run away forever, little Fullmetal Alchemist. Edward Elric. Major. So many impressive titles. It is a shame that none of them can truly live up to who you are as a person. Pathetic, isn't it?_

He tried to scream, but the black blocked all resonance that tore apart from his mind, body and soul.

* * *

Al's mind was racing. He was returning. It had all come around so quickly too quickly...There was no time left and still he _hadn't told his brother._

Would Edward be able to take the burden now? Alphonse had watched, wretched, as his brother had poured out his soul for him crying for him at the chapel. He had been so very alone and afraid. And now with the people around him, he had to endure the hardest battles of them all. He had to come face to face with Envy. No… _they_ had to come face to face with Envy.

But it was Al who had to be the one to kill Envy. He had been waiting to tell the others, but he didn't know when the right time was. He shouldn't have delayed. And yet he was afraid…his news might fracture what was already broken. Ed was blaming himself, and then he may wind up lost at sea again searching for an answer to the impossible.

Why them? After so many mistakes, after all that they had endured. Two brothers. Two boys. Why them?

It was something that Al felt guilty for asking, yet alone thinking. It was sinful to think in such a way, especially after all the kindness that they had been given.

If only he hadn't had his blood seal shattered…if only he hadn't been so selfish…

Thinking like this was not going to help anyone and not his brother. He braced himself and turned over to Edward. He was going to tell him. Secrets were like diseases – they would plague your mind until you couldn't stop but think the worst.

But his brother had a faraway gaze in his golden eyes, as if he was not cognizant about the severity of the dangers that lay ahead. He looked blank and foggy, as if something in his mind was misting up. But as Al peered at his brother's features and hands, he noticed the way that Ed's automail hand was shaking. He noticed that his skin had gone deathly pale, hidden by his bangs and braided hair disguising his features. The bags were heavier-looking than usual beneath his eyes. The veins on his temples seemed to throb.

His brother was in pain. And a lot of it by Al's experience.

"Lieutenant, it's Brother. Ed, it's Al!" Al cried his voice aflutter with anxiety. But he received no response from Edward, apart from the shallow rising and fallings of his chest. He was alive, yet inside…what was he feeling? How much was his head hurting – sick and riddled with Grief. Al had felt it for his mother and also for the portion of his soul which had become disconnected from this world.

"Brother…"

The Lieutenant suddenly swerved the car and pulled her foot away from the accelerator. The car had suddenly stopped. Al barely noticed; he could barely compute anything in his surroundings. This world didn't make sense…nothing seemed to make sense…he wanted to go and lie down and wake up from this terrible dream. He felt bitter and hopeless.

They had arrived. Al knew it. That was why all of the hope inside of him had been extinguished for a moment. The sickening tide of memory washed over him – every cell in his body could feel it – or what was left of his body.

And then he remembered. The Lieutenant couldn't see him.

He shook his head and continued to try and arouse Ed. He tried poking his face and talking to him and opening his eyes but none of it was to any avail. His brother was not stirring from whatever menace had him captured now, trapped and encased inside of his mind. Ed probably felt alone and cold. Colder than ice.

Al imagined pressing his body against Edward's. He imagined every positive thought and hopes and dream flooding into his brother's body, as warm as fire. He imagined it churning and coursing from him into Ed like the course of a river. It could not turn back. Al tried to channel that energy and make it a part of Edward. He closed his eyes and hoped, _prayed,_ that his brother knew that he was never alone. _Help him._

Every ounce of his being was calling out silently, _praying._

 _Help him._

The others would be helping him now if he could. And even though Al had imagined filling Ed with his soul's warmth had taken hours, or at least minutes, in reality barely seconds had passed. They should have been leaving. The Lieutenant should have been issuing out commands-

Unbelievably however, Hawkeye was had not moved from her seat. She had turned around and was looking at Al directly in the eye, even if she herself could see nothing in return.

"We hear you Alphonse." She bowed her head in his direction.

"You can hear me?" he nearly squeaked, but when she didn't notice that he had spoken, he wondered if he was dreaming. All of this felt like a dream too him, a nightmare. But by the sides of these people, all of whom he loved dearly, could it really be classed as a nightmare?

 _Help him._ They must have heard that.

Hawkeye leaned closer to Edward and brushed his hair out of his face with a flick of her wrist. She looked into his eyes, as if she was a doctor. She took his hand and closed her eyes. "Come back to us, Edward. We all need you back, the Colonel, your brother."

 _Help him._

And then quietly she added: "He is battling his own demons now. We can't leave his side. This is the time that he has ever needed us the most. Don't let go, Alphonse."

Even if she couldn't see him, Al nodded and rested his head against Ed's clamming forehead. "I won't ever."

* * *

 _So, here you are, in this place between reality and dream._ The voice noted; where Truth was melodic, this voice was harsh, discordant, like grinding plates of automail rubbing over each other without having been oiled for weeks.

Like a windup robot which had lost its kinetic energy. Trapped and unable to move. Unable to breathe.

Edward tossed and turned. He tried shouting and yelling and screaming, but he couldn't hear his voice. It was so dark that he couldn't see or feel his own body. The only thing he could see was black. The only thing he could hear was that voice. The only sensation that he could feel was drowning. He couldn't breathe…

 _Why did you come here now, I wonder…Oh, the drug must have set in!_ Cruel delight. That sort of possessed happiness was monstrous.

 _I forget. You boys are clueless about the world, are you not? The knife the Chang girl possessed. Envy had it littered with a drug. A hallucinating agent. He has wanted some new prey lately. Who better than the Fullmetal Alchemist? The knife hit your cloak, you touched your cloak. You ingested the drug! Simply brilliant. And it only took fifteen minutes to have an effect…_

How had that happened? But Edward remembered…grabbing and putting on his cloak, where the drug must have been. He may have nervously chewed his nails…and ingested the drug, the poison.

But that meant that this wasn't real. He struggled more. He wanted to get out of there, but as he tried to move more, he found himself being bound tighter. And he was sinking faster than before. Breathing was painful…he couldn't breathe-

 _Weak. It's pathetic having to contend with the likes of you._ Grief was malicious. Grief was apathetic. Grief was the definition of evil.

A portion of the black ocean around him manifested into a figure. Grotesque and disgusting. It was dripping with green. Lilac eyes flashed menacingly. Envy.

"Look at the little pipsqueak, all alone and afraid? Scared I'm gonna kill ya?" Envy's vision distorted and vanished with a blur. And then he felt a dagger being pressed against his chest, and it dug straight through his heart.

Pain exploded not in his heart, but in his head. Rounds and rounds of pain, leaving him doubled over and choking. How could he move and counter this attack? How could he if he was dead?

He couldn't breathe. Was that because Edward Elric was dead?

There was so much that he had left unfinished. He had a woman he wanted to propose to.

It couldn't end like this, being stabbed to death by a monster.

A monster that was laughing. Edward could hear him now, cackling away at the pain and destruction he had left in his path.

 _You're not dead, little alchemist. Looks like it is about to rain_.

And it was. Bullets of rain were firing down on him from the sky. The black seas surrounding him, engulfing him and trapping him, seemed to have a mind of their own and parted. Edward was suddenly falling. He landed painfully on the ground, in control of his own body again. He was wet – having landed in a puddle. The smell of brick and rain and soot overwhelmed him instantly. It was pungent - the stuff of decay.

It was freezing. The autumn leaves had been numbed and fallen off the trees, crumpled and broken in the brick and puddles on the ground. And there was so much mud. Not a wink of sunshine shone through the dark grey storm clouds. The rain was relentlessly heavy.

His hair was already soaked. His clothes were saturated with water and heavy. His head was pounding and his lungs were tight – he was wheezing – he could hardly breathe. It was painful. He was in so much pain…

" _Are you sure we should do this, Ed?"_ That was Al's sonorous voice against the backdrop of the sky and rain. He could hear Envy laughing. He could feel the rain lash against his cheeks. He could see a round of rifle fire and of dead automail and-

 _"_ _NO!"_ Edward screamed. The scene around him vanished and he was bound again in that sea of black. He was being chained tightly, unable to think, move, breathe.

 _Pathetic. Weak. Worthless._ The voice was omnipresent in his head. It felt like he was being controlled inside out. It hurt so much.

But when had he ever stopped fighting?

 ** _Don't call me weak. Don't call me-_**

 _Trying to fight back are we? Nobody can win against fate. You can cheat the Truth, but you cannot cheat fate. You can't even face a simple nightmare._

The sound of rain was lighter now, like a drizzle. He could hear the sounds of his one and only nightmare, the day and scene of when Al had died. He remembered each painstaking moment with crystal clarity, and relived the memory each night in his dreams to keep himself from forgetting. How could he forget? That was his brother.

His brother.

And Edward was failing him…

 _You think that you can succeed even though you have failed to save your brother? You lost his body and tethered his soul to this world. And now you lost that too. You have nothing left, as he does…_

 ** _He has everything to live for!_**

 _When he isn't even alive? That's big, coming from one like yourself…Pathetic._

…

 ** _Don't…_**

 ** _Don't call me…_**

 ** _Don't call be little…_**

And suddenly, Edward felt the binds breaking around him. He was aware of his conscious body. He had control of his arms and legs and thoughts…he had to keep fighting. But he wasn't willing to give up. Envy was trying to run at him, dagger ready to pierce him through the heart.

Edward smiled weakly. It was too late for that. His brother had already damn gone and broken his heart.

Around him, shafts of sunlight were piercing through the sea of black, burning it to a crisp, to a pulp. Fire to beat shadow. The rays lit his head, glowing around him. With his golden hair and eyes, he looked like a fallen angel.

That light was the warmth of everyone. They were calling out to him. They were calling out for him to come back. _They wanted him to come back._

He stood up without stumbling. True he had fallen, but he didn't want to stay buried in the dirt forever.

Because Grief had made one fatal mistake.

For the first time since he could remember, the Fullmetal Alchemist lifted his palms together and clapped.

 ** _Don't you ever dare insult my little brother, you cowering and sneaking bastard. I'll never let you into my mind again!_**

* * *

 _Ed did it - he actually did it XD_

 _I'm in the middle of a writing frenzy - and I can't stop - this story wants to be written. And so I have to agree to its wishes._

 _Thank you for reading, and I'll see you with the next update which will be soon! ~ Dawn_


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Edward gasped frantically, feeling as if he hadn't taken a breath in a thousand years like a vampire. However, he could hear his heart beat, feel the strong pulse below his wrists. He was alive.

So…he had made it.

All that he had needed was that push. He couldn't describe it, but he didn't have to – the one responsible from him emerging from that nightmare forever was sitting by his side.

Al.

"You did it," Edward said warmly as Al started to sniffle. He cried out and wrapped his arms around his older brother. Edward just held him in the car for a second – but they had to go. This mission was far from over.

"Brother, I'm glad that you decided to use alchemy again." Al spoke so only Edward could hear, ever so quietly, although nobody else could hear Al here anyway; they were not alchemists.

But he wanted Al's gentle voice to be heard. He could sing, like a blackbird at dawn. And he wanted the world to hear that voice day and night – the song of hope and innocence and warmth. A world in which the rain was welcome as the Sun.

"Me too, little brother," Edward grinned and pulled Al in a tight embrace, which the younger Elric quickly squirmed his way out of.

There were more challenges for them to face.

And yet compared to what he had faced in his mind, he didn't know what the challenge ahead would bring. Roy was there, and even if the bastard Colonel had put himself in that situation in the first place, Edward would never have come here. He would have never faced his nightmare.

He couldn't repay the Colonel for that.

 _We'll see you in a second, bastard,_ Edward thought as he followed Hawkeye out of the car. Fuery was trying to shelter his equipment under his sleeve; Havoc had an unlit cigarette in his mouth; Breda was twirling a gun around in his fingers; Falman was muttering quietly, probably recounting facts; and Hawkeye stared solemnly at the brick walls entering the building, laden with ivy.

For a moment, Edward felt like the ivy. He had spent his time growing and twisting around a truth that nothing was ever going to get better, and that he was going to have to endure and suffer through nightmares for the rest of his life. And not even the Colonel, Winry or Al could stop that from becoming a possibility.

A sudden thought reached him. Perhaps it was from the nerves that buzzed around inside – not swarming and overwhelming him – but a positive kind; nervous adrenaline heightening his senses he peered through the darkness, imagining that he had gained night vision. Envy was waiting there, but Edward wasn't to be treaded over like dirt again. He tried to push his worries to the back of his mind, despite it being for only a brief interlude of time. If he was going to ask it, what better time than the present? "Al, what do you think about Winry?"

"This is a little random, even for you, Brother," Al looked oddly at Edward, and took a hand out of his pockets and examined it. "I love her of course, as a sister, but not in the way that you do-"

"The way I- it's nothing like that!" Edward protested, hating how his flustered cheeks told everyone that he was lying. His body was now betraying him.

"You'll have to wait a couple of years though, Brother. Granny would absolutely refuse to give Win away until she's eighteen!" Al laughed as Edward's furious face turned a shade of crimson he hadn't thought it possible for humans to replicate onto their skin.

"You see everything, Al-" And Edward earnestly gazed at Al, the humour slipping from his eyes. He had heard everything that Al had said to him. It came to him like a dream. _My fault…I have to kill Envy…Truth…bargain…_ Those snippets were more than enough for Edward. "And just so you know, when we find that miserable monster, we'll have your back."

"Someone has to watch your back to, Ed," Al rolled his eyes but then they blinked comfortingly, letting Edward's promise soak through his mind.

Edward felt someone tap him on the shoulder. It was Breda. He was pointing at Hawkeye, who was gesturing with her gun for the team to move out. He was ready. It was time to go to the Colonel. He could feel the crackles of energy flicker through his fingers. Edward moved forward lithely, remaining in the touch of shadow, which was splashed haphazardly across the ground at the spots where the streetlights didn't shine. The layer of snow was heavy here – untouched – and a glistening layer of ice rested below. Edward could hear it crunch with each step he took.

But his mind was preoccupied. He didn't notice the snow starting to fall; the storm had begun.

* * *

Roy had already lost all sense of time. He knew that not long had passed at all, but still it felt like eternity had dragged by.

Envy was immensely _taxing_ on his nerves, even more so than Fullmetal could be. And that was saying something, a part of his mind added.

But what was unusual was the lack of torture that Envy was implementing. Since hearing his arm "break", Envy had stepped back, whistling, and left Roy unoccupied and chained to the wall. Or so he had thought. The glistening eyes of chimera were watching him from his cell, he knew, and if he tried so much as transmute, then he would be hurt very badly.

Envy was a Homunculus, who had lived hundreds of years, or at least that was what the records suggested. He knew how to keep himself alive. That made him a deadly ally. And why he needed his team with him as soon as possible. As soon as this monster could be exterminated, the better. After how much pain he had been caused.

"Roy, they're here!" a voice called. Roy's eyes opened suddenly, his mouth agape in pure and wretched horror as he saw Hughes walk through the wooden door, with ivy clinging to its hinges. Maes Hughes, the walking carnation of a blithering, genius idiot, and the man who would make you spill the gossip in less than thirty seconds flat. He was the most irritating man to have ever existed. And he was an overly-devoted family man, obsessed and prided over his photo albums.

He was Roy's best friend.

But he was dead. Cold and dead. Buried and dead.

He shouldn't be here.

A part of his mind was screaming. _It's Envy stop hallucinating get over it! Hughes is gone, he has really gone and there is no bringing back the dead-_

"Look, Roy, they're here! New editions for my photo collection, I'm sure!" he squeaked delightedly like an excited child. Typical Hughes. _This isn't typical, Roy, stop it!_

His face must have been a picture. And he didn't mean that as a convenient joke. Anxiety and anger were etched into his features, and Roy felt old, damn old and that so much time had passed without his friend. Lines of frustration were carved into his brow, and his hair was strewn wildly across his face, his hands itching to be free from their binds. Surely…there could be a way…to see his friend just one more time? _What are you thinking? No!_

"Do you want to see the pictures so far? There aren't many…" Maes reached into a blazer pocket and brought forth his wallet. Talk about having a photo album; this wallet was his album. It always contained pictures of his daughter and wife…Elicia and Gracia. It was always Elicia and Gracia. However, as the contents of the wallet fell free from his grasp, and the pictures scattered into the damp ground before, Roy's stomach lurched.

On those pictures-

Hell.

This couldn't be real.

What damn nightmare was he living in now-?

"Do you like them?" Maes asked. But Roy knew that this man wasn't Maes Hughes. He wore the face of his best friend, but he was not his best friend. He had never been his best friend and he would never bloody be!

Roy's vision went blurry as he watched the contents of the pictures slip into the water like pond skaters and become disfigured, a mesh of oceanic colours. He couldn't be damn crying about this.

One glance at one picture was enough.

One glance of Hughes, dead, a bloodied figure in a phone booth, phone dangling loosely by his side. Glasses were askew and cracked. He was smiling. _Smiling._

Hughes had died as he had lived. Too damn positive.

But the man was more than that – grave, protective, compassionate – and too damn positive for his own good.

This Hughes was not _his_ Hughes. They were an impersonator, a monster, a _fool_ for doing this. His tears quickly turned from sorrow into resentful anger. Inside of his coal-black eyes burnt the fires of revenge.

"So, did you like my little game, Mustang?" Envy licked his lips, transforming back into his original and grotesque form, like a warped corpse. "I know about your plans, _Colonel."_ The last part came from the Homunculus as a sneer.

"How dare you," Roy started. His jaw was locked, fury blazing and causing his arms to shake. He then pulled at the chains – he couldn't stay here any longer, no matter what anyone damn said, he wanted to burn this monster and cause him to writhe with the ashes of his tongue melting before his eyes and he wanted to simmer that sly grin away from his hideous face – and he wanted Envy to feel _pain._

The chains snapped.

The dummy hand fell to the floor.

Envy didn't look mildly surprised. He tutted, shaking his head disappointedly.

Roy felt his canines dig into his lips. Blood trickled down.

Envy moved a foot forwards, seemingly oblivious to the world.

Roy's fingers caught the blood and drew his circle faster than a tornado could knock this building to the ground.

Envy stared at the crumpled picture.

Roy's slapped his transmutation circle.

Envy let his foot crumple the picture of Maes Hughes until it broke into a thousand pieces.

"I'll be candid with you, Colonel." Envy's form shimmered and began to twist, deform, mutate. "I would never let you win."

A green hand sprouted from the Homunculus' gut and instantly snuffed out Roy's flames that he had transmuted. Envy's form convulsed again and he grew larger, sprouting more limbs than Roy could count. The building around him began to crumble, and suddenly, all at once, like a balloon filled to its capacity, the pressure became overwhelming.

The building collapsed. The walls shattered.

Envy's form continued to convulse before Roy's eyes. His mutated head vanished amongst the rubble which was falling-

With a flick of his elongated tail, rock formations were hurled in Roy's direction-

There was no time to move out of the way.

Roy ducked as huge rock collisions came falling on top of him as large as stalagmites. A bitter winter wind shook him to the core. It was dark, but floating amongst the inky night sky were the first dazzling white flakes of snow.

And before his eyes, he could see the members of his team running towards him.

As well as Alphonse. And with him was Fullmetal. Coat whipping furiously in the rising storm. He was striking his hands together.

Roy wanted to scream with euphoria. Here he was – once an alchemist and always an alchemist.

Edward Elric had unlocked that vault, and now he was here to stay.

What Roy had done was cruel and painstaking and reckless…but it had worked.

Even if they didn't have any time. But…

Just as there was no time left, they had made it.

Colonel Mustang would be giving promotions to each of them, regardless of how many laws that would break in the military.

* * *

Edward's nose wrinkled involuntarily as the drifts of snow fell from the sky. The wind was howling, although the first drops of snow were light and delicate like a feather's touch. However, as they increased in quantity, their intensity grew as well; each separate flake hit him in the face with the strength of a knife wound. At least with being an alchemist was that dexterity was on his side; he should be able to transmute despite the weather conditions.

But the wind was strong – relentlessly strong – and it dragged at his cloak and his boots slipped in the layer of ice below. His face was frozen, and he could hardly keep his eyes open. His hood kept slipping down from his head, and his hair was soaked all over again with a fresh layer of precipitation. He couldn't see where he was going; the world was a shaking frenzy of white. It was nearly impossible to keep his balance. And he still had to keep moving forward.

He heard the crash of shattering concrete over the wind's snarl as the foundations to Envy's hideout was literally torn to shreds from the inside out. The fronds of ivy snapped like chains. And from the building, a convulsing green mass appeared, humanoid body parts screaming and writhing, dotted along his abdomen like constellations; limbs were splayed out in every direction; gloopy, viscous liquid writhed over its body. But the head turned towards him. Edward froze. That half-moon grin and lilac eyes were recognisable anywhere.

Envy.

Edward could feel the presence of Team Mustang by his side – too far away to see them through the darkness, but close enough to hear the pounding of their feet and hear the rifle fire which clattered through the night – and drew his strength from theirs. They were one unit with one goal. To save their King ( _King Bastard,_ he thought) by killing Envy.

Envy had sinned enough to be the definition of Sin. _Murderer,_ his thoughts cried bitterly.

"Well, well, if it isn't the little pipsqueak!" Envy taunted his voice discordant as if wrapped in a layer of foam. His tail slammed into the ground, causing seismic convulsions to spread across the ground like an earthquake. The ground beneath his feet started to split and tear into pieces. He quickly leapt onto safer ground.

But that had given Envy ample time to reach with a green talon and close around a figure. The black hair and blue uniform caused Edward to swallow with relief. The Colonel…Roy…was alive. Trepidation instantly flooded through him again as he saw Envy's grip tighten around the unconscious Colonel.

Through the din of snow he heard a voice cry, " _Don't shoot!"_

Edward gritted his teeth and pressed closer towards the building; his body lanced in pain as he slipped and landed on piles of discarded metal and slate –but he hurried to his feet. He had to move faster, faster, faster.

They were all enclosing in on Envy, close enough to be smacked by his tail now.

He turned to his side, and his body shivered. He had long passed the boundary of "freezing" minutes ago. Al wasn't there. Had he gone back? Edward knew Al would have never gone back. So where was he?

And suddenly, a single gun started to sing in a cacophonic chorus composed of bullets. They hurled with pinpoint accuracy towards the Homunculus. It was as if Edward's vision gained crystal clarity through the storm. He watched each bullet zoom towards their target with pinpoint accuracy and hit Envy in each of his arachnid-like eyes, causing him to cry in shook. He dropped the Colonel.

Havoc and Falman moved instantly. They reached the Colonel and started to drag him away from the grasp of the Sin. All the while the singing bullets were being fired like pellets into Envy's eyes, stomach, even into the humanoid faces that were screaming in pain – these figures spoke the voices of those long lost, those used in the production of Philosopher's Stones – innocent souls, vanquished from this world like dust.

Edward thought of Al's gentle smile. And despite being freezing to his core, hypothermia having probably set in to his frigid body already, he felt warm seep across him, like the Sun being exposed from a bed of cloud, refracting across the sky with its lemon-coloured light.

He slapped his hands together and leapt into empty air-

Decomposition and composition. Fundamentals of alchemy. Envy was a creature of alchemy.

Edward could transmute against Envy, because of one simple, yet vital fact: Envy wasn't human.

Edward's hands burnt with the crackle of alchemic energy as his hands imbedded into Envy's shamrock-tanned skin. He imagined watching the Homunculus burn and smoulder and-

The Fullmetal Alchemist could barely hear his own thoughts above the din of Envy's screams. Tortured and mutilating screams-

Fire. Heat. They seemed so distant, like a dream-

But he wasn't dreaming – he was sweating – the very air around him was becoming hot.

Arms grabbed around him – the distinct smell of tuna and sweetcorn and bread told him silently that it was Breda – as flames erupted into the air, smashing into Envy's side like a wrecking ball.

The Homunculus lashed and screamed and knocked down the remaining parts of the building. He tried to grab for rocks to lunge at them, but said limb crackled and vanished as cinders, thermally decomposed by flame the moment it touched the rock. One second, his tongue was burning, the next his eyes, the next, the next –

The snap and click of fingers echoed throughout the air. The flames danced and licked, flaring orange against the sky, like a phoenix soaring. It was bitterly serene and graceful. Nothing could stop them in their path.

Edward could barely hear it though. The storm was screeching through the air, and he had to crouch low to the ground to prevent himself from being knocked over. Already he was reeling and breathless. The others were close to his side but not Al. He couldn't see his brother. He could see nothing except for the swirling chaos of wind in front of him. It was a whirlpool of snow and flame come to earth – a winter storm. The bullets were the thunder; the flames the lightning.

 _Al, where are you?_ Edward internally shouted and if any words were spoken, they would have been lost to the wind and snow.

However, Edward was distracted by the glittering of alchemic sparks, ruby red, which shone around the Homunculus in a menacing light. Envy's form had stopped moving altogether, and from the centre of his body a green lump started to swirl and accumulate. Envy's humanoid form stepped out, snarling disdainfully, as he glared directly at Edward and a second later ducked for cover against the flames. His previously inhabited body disintegrated into ash. The rifle fire stopped for a moment as confusion rang through the air. From his angle, Edward understood, he was the only one who had been able to see the Homunculus.

"He has returned to his human form!" Edward's voice echoed, more sonorous than a bell. He hoped everyone could hear him – including Al.

 _Al…where are you?_

Edward's heart suddenly tightened and clenched in panic. In the corner of his vision, he thought he had seen a shimmer of reflection, a gentle warm light like a deity. He recognised that light; it was the one that led him away from the realm of the nightmares, a place he never wanted to tread through again. It was Al.

Al had his body crouched close to the ground, a blunt stone held securely in his fists-

His eyes were narrowed in focus, his body agile like a wildcat hunting. But Envy was not easy prey; it was the Homunculus who was the killer and not Al. Never Al-

"What are you doing?" Edward cried, although his voice was lost, lost, lost. Edward didn't think. He reacted and ran as fast as his body could carry him across the layer of ice. His joints were blotted and stiff, especially his automail. He was reckless and didn't think about the consequences of his actions in the heat of the battle. Edward's mind thrived on his intuition and instinct – it kept him and Al alive for all of that time without their mother.

He moved faster, faster, faster.

Al was already a shimmering form, like a ghost-

He had died once; there would be no second chances. Edward knew that fact better than anyone.

Al was his brother. They couldn't leave each other alone.

Perhaps Ed was being selfish, but after what he had endured, was it so wrong to desire something for himself for once?

His eyes squeezed shut for a moment; the tears solidified into miniature fractures of ice the moment they were shed.

"Fullmetal – _Edward!"_ He couldn't hear Roy. His voice was something out an illusion, or a dream. In this flurry of snow, Edward wasn't sure if he was sleepwalking. His body sagged with exhaustion; he felt beyond lethargic, and yet he suddenly felt feather-light, like a bird swimming through the sky's currents.

 _"You're a State Alchemist. The Fullmetal Alchemist…Edward Elric!"_ That voice did not only belong to Roy. It transformed into a melody of a thousand voices, a thousand songs filling his heart. Happiness. Anguish. Sorrow. Joy. Laughter. Anxiety. Fear. Contentment. Jealousy. Pain. Love. Every human emotion blended together into the melody, reflected in the wind. In it he could hear every voice of every person he had ever known – his friends, his enemies, his family; those he treasured and those he despised; those who he admired and those who admired him – their voices joined together to creature one pure and still note.

Edward's mind was taken back to Al singing and how at that moment, Al's voice had become his world, his one and only thought. His existence had become that song. A song that called out his name, weaving through his heroics as a State Alchemist, the journeys he had taken across Amestris, weaving through his childhood of summertime and secret trips to the Glen, weaving through the hazy memories of a family portrait, and someone had been crying, and his first ever memory – being held in the arms of his pregnant mother, a smiling beaming on her face in a radiant white light.

Her form shifted. She was still there – she would always be there. But other people had joined the circle – Hawkeye, Breda, Havoc, Falman, Fuery, Teacher, Granny, Winry, Alphonse, Roy. Each person's soul seemed to be resonating with a melody that was touching his own and giving Edward his strength.

Al's song was one of a thousand songs he wanted to hear and hold tightly to his chest.

 _That_ was his greatest strength and weakness. The strength that others gave him, was what gave him his own.

His golden eyes opened.

"Envy! You horrific and sadistic bastard! Come out and face me you slithering monster before I break your neck into a thousand pieces until there is not a drop of Philosopher's Stone left in your damn body. I'm going to _kill you_!" Edward had reached the place where Envy had been, jumping over debris. Nothing would stop him now.

And suddenly, he growled in pain. A needle-thin blade had pierced through his leg-

He wasn't bleeding-

It was his automail leg-

Edward lost connection with his left leg; it stumbled under his weight, and he crashed towards the floor.

 _"Edward!"_ that was the Col-Roy. _Roy._ Sparks of his flame alchemy came hurtling towards him, and he heard the screams of Envy close by his side. Envy, who had mutated his hand to form a blade which had severed his automail from his nervous system-

 _"Brother!"_ Al…his brother would live…

Edward was the Fullmetal Alchemist. Even with his leg indisposed, he would never surrender.

Using his remaining good leg, he swerved to his right and he saw the blade leave his automail leg, slicked with oil and grease. This was his new automail, which he surprisingly had felt a strange attachment to, like a tingling along his spine. This automail was important to him, and he didn't understand why.

Even without his automail leg, he still had his right arm. The alchemic array blazed in his mind's eye. He slapped his hands together and let the layers of metal on his arm morph into a blade of glowing platinum. In the winter's light, it glistened like diamond.

"You pathetic human," he could hear Envy hiss.

No…

Why?

Why had he been fearful of Envy?

Because, it wasn't him who was pathetic-

It was-

"It was you all along, Envy," Edward shuddered in realization, stroking his blade fondly, protectively, as he stood up. "You were the pathetic one all along. I was afraid, and I admitted it. I fell, but _I damn rose_! You…are a coward. You live in fear of the clustering strength of humans. You are pathetic," Edward felt a weight lift his shoulders.

Envy no longer was threatening; he was cowering. _The Homunculus was the insect waiting to be squashed._

"But we crawl back from our graves to leave our mark," Edward whispered.

Envy screamed, his purple eyes brimming with anger. He lunged at Edward.

Al's laugh rang in his mind, as bright as a summer's day.

Edward's blade sunk like a knife deep into Envy's heart.

Another scream rang through the silence.

Alphonse's.

* * *

 _"When the time comes, you must be the one to kill the Homunculus called Envy."_

 _Truth laughed from their void. This play on events truly_ was _amusing._

* * *

 _A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger there folks! This is it - one final chapter remaining and an epilogue. I cannot believe it has come around this quickly. But I'll leave sentimentality until Never Alone is finally over XD_

 _In the meantime, lovely readers, thank you for your support. Sit tight - there is a little way to go yet._

 _I'll see you on the other side of the Gateway. Until next time! ~ Dawn_


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Blue alchemy erupted from his automail like flames. They danced and formed a wreath around the Homunculus Envy. Edward's arm started to shake and heat up – lancing pain shooting like comets – but he hardly noticed that. The automail had started to burn like liquid silver and disintegrate-

And suddenly, his automail shattered into a thousand pieces.

Edward watched as his automail blade splintered like ribbons and then was reduced to ash in an instant; the iridescent steel glowed in the snow like topaz crystals.

Edward watched as Envy's lilac eyes widened in horror, and as clots of Philosopher's Stones were choked out of his mouth like blood.

Edward watched the snow fall onto his hair, coating him in a silver halo; he looked like a snow angel.

Why…why did the world make him seem like a hero?

Why did the goddamn world have to appear so perfect now – the hero defeating the villain?

" _BROTHER!"_

One word.

Edward felt sick, twisted.

What had he done?

His golden eyes narrowed in absolute fury as if Hell could come to earth from within their depths.

 _What had he done?_

And then he screamed one lonely name.

He saw a bright light….and a malicious grin…

He was being swallowed by that light which also swallowed up his scream.

* * *

Roy knew that at least half of his ribs were broken being held in the clutches of that Homunculus. Envy, the monster, which had suddenly retreated like a coward.

He growled and shook the supporting hands of Havoc and Hawkeye from his shoulders. He didn't give a damn about his own pain right now.

The snow had turned his hair white and had settled a layer over his head. But it wasn't biting cold; Roy stared around, and realized that as quickly as it had whipped up, the storm was fading. The snow was falling gently and the snow was as tranquil as the rolling pastures in Resembool. It was the symbolic ending of the climax now that the storm was over.

Or so someone would have thought.

For him, _it would never be over until he was safe._ _Until_ both _of the brothers were safe._

He couldn't help but internally curse as he rose to his feet. Knox would have burnt him in the ass if he saw what Roy was doing now; multiple fractures, abdominal damage and whatever the hell was wrong with his insides. He didn't care. Roy rolled his gloves tightly around his fingers, and pinched them to snap, click and _burn._

The alchemy rumbled in the air like storm clouds, and as flames danced with snow, it looked like an ash cloud. A spiral of colour of autumn leaves on a winter's night. Roy saw its beauty and the flammability and the ignition which he could start with a snap and at how much his flame could _burn._

 _Burn burn burn that damn Homunculus._

Roy didn't realize he was running until he found his chest clenching, swollen in pain. He gritted his teeth and growled at his insides to wait – he didn't give a _damn_ – and continued to click his fingers towards the site where Envy was.

He could be accurate to the range of half a metre. Edward and Alphonse would be safe. His flames of vengeance were only meant for the Homunculus.

 _Burn._

Suddenly, a bullet sailed across his head. He turned and saw not a pace away from him, his whole team standing by his side. They had come to retrieve their CO, as if he was some naughty child and they were responsible parents.

That couldn't be true enough.

Hawkeye held her gun aloft over her shoulder, "You are an idiot thinking you're doing this alone, Sir."

"If I cannot dissuade you all," Roy growled, "eliminate that bastard by any means necessary. Protect the Elrics. And don't goddamn ask for a promotion!"

"Sir!" five voices shouted the affirmative and the next round of bullets aimed for-

Thud. It started off as a thud for one minute moment and then it escalated into something far more like a crescendo. Sparks of blue alchemy surrounded it.

"It" – Roy's stomach lurched as he thought about that was.

Blue sparks of alchemy billowed into the air, there was a sonorous scream and an explosion loosened into the still air. They were in a warehouse district in an abandoned sector of Central, but if they had not been, there would have been havoc.

Then came the gut-wrenching, wrangling cries of a Homunculus being mutilated inside out, being decomposed and broken apart through alchemy. Edward. Fullmetal was capable of this level of destruction – Roy didn't even have to assume.

And while gentle forms slept, _this_ was happening just across the city.

Roy forced his legs to run faster. Above the screams of a tortured monster, an immortal refusing to goddamn _die,_ and he heard a scream.

 _"BROTHER."_

It was followed by a response, a call, a plea, a prayer. _"AL."_

Al and Ed.

His heart strings tightened and Roy shuddered as he felt his world collapse in around him like he was trapped in that damn building still.

Don't. Think. About. It.

But he had.

The bloodied pictures of Hughes, beaten and bloody and dead returned like a nightmare, flashing into his mind's eye. He imagined for a split second the Elric brothers. Not just Al in his limbo state, but _both_ of them, dead and beyond any hopes of saving.

Beyond the gentle light of the Sun.

The last words he had said to Hughes rang in his mind: "See you around, Roy. Pay a visit to Central some time!

So cheerful, so damn positive.

Roy's fingers stopped snapping for a moment. They were shaking profusely, and showed no signs of stopping.

Roy. Shouldn't. Be. Thinking. These. Things.

His legs were as slippery as ice, but he was close to the explosion site. There was no way or hope in Hell that he was going to slow down now. Already the storm clouds above were moving across their celestial terrain as if they were bored by the events which had occurred down on the ground below. Fractured starlight was starting to shine through. Or it could have been the familiar city lights of Central. He couldn't tell the difference in the hazy darkness which dominated his vision. Roy and his team had kicked up a flurry of snow in their wake, and the resting snow that remained was disfigured like sludge, revealing the merciless razor-sharp layer of ice below, scattered with useless bullets and a trail of blood – his.

And he didn't give a bloody _damn._

He was the Bastard Colonel after all.

Roy's fingers ensued in their fight. He aimed his flames for the heart of the Homunculus, helping to grind the evil inside of Envy's soul until it resembled a speck of dust. And then he would step and squash on it like a bug that needed to be exterminated.

He saw glimpses of ivy by his side. He leapt – and swore under his breath as his trembling ribcage protested heavily – and dropped to his knees.

A pile of ash. Automail ash.

A blond – his messy hair contained in a braid and red cloak as vibrant as the sunset. A red cloak which disguised the trail of blood hidden below.

An arm. A mutilated arm, which in the faint light, resembled copper, was a mass of wire and flesh, as if it had been wrenched out of its socket. As if it had _exploded_ into a thousand pieces.

The other arm reaching out for a person – a brother – who was not there.

The shallow rise and fall of their thorax was faint.

 _"Edward."_ Roy was speechless. This was worse, worse, worse than the bloodied picture he had painted in the twisted canvas that was his mind's eye. Ed wasn't supposed to feel this much pain. Roy had been trying to help him, protect him, and guard him like a father would his son.

 _Sons._

His vision was watery. He brushed it away.

He dragged himself to Ed's side. It felt like he was dreaming. He imagined Edward responding lightly. Golden eyes – glazing over – stared back at him, still burning strongly with the fire that Roy was envious of Fullmetal possessing. And a wheeze of breath which formed dialect, " _Do it."_

Roy understood. He signalled his team with a wave of his hand. They surrounded him, protecting Fullmetal, watching his back, and turned on the ravaged state that was Envy the Homunculus. He was in his human form, slumped against the broken concrete remains that had formed a wall, but he burnt and singed to a crisp. His lilac eyes moved warily from side to side, a mass of ruby vomit that he was drenched with. His lips were pursued and then-

"You vile human!"

Roy screamed at the top of his lungs. He didn't care if his ribcage collapsed on him. _How dare Envy? HOW DARE HE?!_

Roy snarled in anger and he snapped his fingers more furiously than he ever had in his life. He felt consumed by energy, his hatred, and channelled that into his alchemy, which seemed to blaze ever brighter. Against the backdrop of the city, each spurt of flames which were spewed at the Homunculus' gut, it lit up the warehouse district romantically like candlelight. The outline of the military HQ was visible for each seconds that his fire burnt at its brightest.

But there were some lights in his life that couldn't ever be seen. They were the most precious things to him in the world.

While Maes was too damn positive, he was _too damn sentimental._

"I will never be defeated by you pitiful creatures! _I am Envy!_ I'm a Homunculus and one of the chosen immortal beings who will surpass God-"

Envy's protests were lost to screams.

Roy didn't stop or pause. He continued to blast fireballs at the Homunculus.

"This is for Hughes!"

And more bursts of fire hotter than the centre of the Sun.

Envy's body had started to disintegrate. The red alchemic energy which healed his wounds had stopped a long time ago. Whatever damage that Fullmetal had done, he had made a thorough job of it. Just a little bit more.

"This is for Fullmetal and everyone else you've goddamn hurt!"

And suddenly, like a heart was connected by arteries, Envy vomited up his Core. His Stone. Connected to his body like some moronic lifeline.

"I'm-"

 _"Pathetic. Sick. Twisted. A Sin. A Devil's Creature."_

Roy stepped across the debris separating him from the Homunculus and shook his gloves from his fingers. His hands were bruised and his knuckles callused; his wrists had a patch of raw skin ringed around them where the manacles had dug into his flesh. His fists clenched and he grabbed for the Stone. And then, he pulled with the strength of one low, selfish, arrogant bastard.

He grinned, his lips curling into a smug smile.

 _"Go back to being Hell, Homunculus!"_

And the Stone shattered. Envy glared towards Roy and Edward and then at the heavens.

"It is a shame Roy Mustang. The pipsqueak already destroyed my dignity…"

"He is capable of far more than that, I can guarantee-" Roy began. But it was too late; Envy had become ash. Out of the corner of Roy's vision, something gleamed past and burst through the centre of Envy's form.

There was one highly-pitched scream before Envy disintegrated forever. "Damn you _Elric!"_

Elric?

Roy pivoted on his feet and held his breath. It was Edward, bleeding and broken. He had clearly broken several of his bones too – damn he deserved it too considering the mess they had both gotten themselves into – reckless, foolish alchemists. Ed was breathing hard on his knees – his arm had literally been cleaved away from his shoulder and was a dust puddle around his feet, blending in with the snow. His automail leg looked broken too. And still, by his feet was an etched transmutation circle where chain rested on the ground. Part of the chain had been broken off and transmuted by Edward. Even in his state, blood pooling around his body so he looked like a redhead as opposed to his natural blond; his bangs dripped with the stuff too. He had a hand still touching the array he had just activated to land the final killing blow to the Homunculus. Even in his state, Ed had to deal the final bloody blow.

Show off.

Roy burst out into a smile which Fullmetal saw. Edward's lips curled into a smirk and then broke off into a hacking cough. He doubled over and started to collapse to the floor, coughing…falling…phlegm and blood retching on the floor around him. At that moment, eerily moonlight carved its silver sculpture into the ground, glistening around Edward as if he was a creature of Heaven.

The Colonel moved faster than he thought was humanly possible. He caught the teenager as he was still falling before his body could crash into the snow-strewn ground. The missing clumps of snow were glistening with so much red that they resembled snow demons more than they did snow angels, resembling hellish fire. Other patches of snow were now dripping with water having been melted by Roy's wrathful flames.

Roy didn't think as he let gentle spits of flame dance around the blond's frame at the points where he was bleeding. He needed to make it stop and fast-

His team had already gathered around him, moving and darting by his side; Fuery was making phone calls, Breda and Havoc were sent out scouting around the remains of the building for survivors from other people who may have been trapped like Roy in Envy's morbid facility. The rest of the team were gathered around Edward, pressing compresses into his shoulder port – trying to contain the bleeding – he could feel Hawkeye's quiet breath by his right shoulder. But they were a world apart. The blond was dragging him into a world only them two could understand.

Because watching Edward kill the Homunculus reminded Roy of someone…him.

They were willing to protect the people they cared about despite the cost – their lives.

But he had only seen Fullmetal as a whinging teenager who wanted to get his own way, who wanted to run his ragged brother across a country filled with filth and fables to no avail. Mustang had thought Fullmetal was a selfish child who could not accept "no" for an answer – which was still true to an extent – but only caring for his own needs and his brother's. He had thought Fullmetal had joined the military to abuse its resources and finances – Amestris was a struggling country who had to contend against the powerhouses of Drachma, Creta and Aerugo; every child had lived through a war in this country. And it had damn pissed the Colonel off that twelve-year-old brats could leech the military of its resources by performing a few neat tricks of alchemy without a transmutation circle (which Mustang had to admit was raw talent).

Although…that was what Mustang thought of Fullmetal.

It wasn't what _Roy_ thought of _Edward._

A boy…a man struggling for redemption against this cruel and bitter world, trying to make amends with God, trying to fight against this world's coursing current. He was trying to reverse the impossible and damn Roy admired him for that. Roy had thought that he was determined as a child, but compared to the raging inferno of Edward, he was but a dull ember. But they both possessed it – an unquenchable fire in their eyes – the desire to keep on going no matter what. The past hurt and the future was a dream.

But the present was something to live for.

He had only realized that after Al's incident. Roy hated every cell in his body for thinking it, but if anything good had come out with what had happened to Ed, it was that he had been taught what true strength is. Crawling out of that hellhole called Grief and surviving to make the next day.

And now…he couldn't let Edward lose. He couldn't let Al lose. They had been fighting this battle for a very long time and as victory came into sight, the world thought they would let the Elric brothers lose.

To Hell with that.

To Hell with this world.

To Hell with that damn blond for making him cry.

"Hey, bastard. I didn't…possible…selfish bastard…cry," Edward whispered, his tone light and mocking. After all of this time and he was still trying to make a mockery of his superior. Roy couldn't help by grimace, wiping his eyes with his shoulder sleeve. His brows narrowed…why was Ed comforting _him_ now…

That earnt him a smile. A true, heart-warming smile. One that didn't reflect the pain or heartbreak the teenager must have been in. It was genuine, and cast a light not even the sunrise could compare with.

He pulled Edward closer to his chest, listening to his faint heartbeat pump. Keep going. Keep him alive. You're a muscle. Do your goddamn job. _Work._

Ed choked and tried to wipe his lip but he was stopped when Hawkeye's arm brought it back gently to his side. Roy hazarded a stare – the bleeding had stopped – but why then…why was the entire colour being drained from Edward's face? _Work._

"Stop…holding me…tightly…hurts," Ed rolled his eyes as much as he could. He winced in pain and Roy could only hold him tighter.

"I won't let you go, you insolent pipsqueak," Roy muttered back through Ed's ear. The damn brat.

"You know…you're not…too bad," Ed looked directly into Roy's eyes, the light fading from his own like life being dripped from a flower. But spring would never return. There would only be winter and cold and rain. There were some things that Flame couldn't protect and preserve forever. _Work._

"No I won't let you-"

"Pft. I've never…obeyed an order, bastard…got to…find my reckless…brother," and Edward shuddered.

The moon was gleaming. The world was frozen. Roy's mind was frozen. He didn't think, he didn't speak. He _reacted._

He lifted his fingers and snapped, the sound as loud as a sonic boom, and a dragon launched from his glove and rocketed into the sky like fireworks. It snarled and twisted in the sky, turning the snow into a steady rainfall.

* * *

…

…

Where was he?

…

Cold. Warm.

Both.

…

That was strange.

It was almost like…he couldn't tell.

It was almost like he couldn't feel at all.

…

Where was he?

…

What had just happened?

…

…

Oh. That.

Yeah…he had been pretty reckless.

Did that mean…

Ed blinked hazily, and warm sunlight flooded into his vision. He could hear the whispers of the blades of grass in the breeze, and could feel the beating Sun upon his face. It was gentle warmth. He could hear the laundry blowing and the cool gusts of the leaves moving from the tree; the rickety swing set moved forward and brightly lightly in the summer wind as well. Shadows danced beforehis eyes like silhouettes among the grass and Sun and sky.

It was like his entire world had become eternal bliss.

He had dreamed of this scene many times.

It was like his Paradise.

Like his Heaven.

…

…

 _No…_

 _NO…_

"Is something wrong, Ed?"

Ed froze.

That voice.

That voice he had yearned, craved to hear again in over ten years.

The voice that rang like a bell and made his heart ring happily too. There was only once voice – belonging to _one person_ – that could do that.

…

He had to be dreaming.

He had to be.

"Edward?" inquisitive and gentle. Edward's body ached – he longed to wrap his hands around the neck of his mother and smell her sweet lavender smell and know that everything in the world would be alright.

"Mum?" he asked. But he knew, he knew, he _knew._

He knew that it was _her._

"Woah!" Trisha Elric yelped as Edward wrapped his arms – arms of flesh, legs of flesh! – around her. He was crying; he was so happy and peaceful and tranquil. His dreams had come true. She was here. She was real.

Ed didn't say anything for a long while. He was content to breath in the aroma of honeysuckle and lavender and freshly-cleaned laundry; it smelt of summer.

Cold and snow and rain felt like a dream, a world away from him.

He had missed her for so long. Ed loved her so much and now that he was here he didn't ever want to let go.

But a small part of his heart, a fraction of his heart, was fluttering anxiously. It was a niggling presence that wouldn't go away, no matter how hard he tried to push those thoughts away from his mind.

 _Please…leave me alone._

…

…

 _You're not going to leave me alone, are you?_

"Mum, you're-"

"I would never leave you behind, Ed," and Trisha smiled. Ed's mind became fuzzy with a sensation he hadn't felt in years – being subject to a mother's unconditional love.

When they had tried to bring her back, this is all that Ed had wanted.

This is all that he had dreamt of.

This moment. Just being with his mother…

Not much to ask for.

That's all that _they_ had wanted. There were two of them.

His heart seemed to flutter a little more in acquiescence.

"Al – where's Al?" Ed asked, trying to look past Trisha's caramel hair. He couldn't see anyone or hear anything else apart from the gauze of the tree blowing and bumblebees droning, a dull murmur.

"Al…"

…

…

"Al? Oh no, he hasn't been here."

"Alphonse. My brother…" Edward's heart suddenly was filled with panic. He pushed himself away from Trisha – his own mother – and grasped at his chest.

His heart was beating madly.

His heart was beating madly…like music.

…

He didn't want that music to end. That music…it meant a lot to him.

It united him with the world and the people that he knew. The people that he would protect with his life. It reminded him of a bird flying free at dawn, the cry of freedom that had touched his heart with its shrill resonance.

He didn't know anything about music. But Al…

Hell, even the Colonel was probably more musical than him.

But it was something he wanted to learn.

…

He always wanted to try. He didn't like losing.

…

Damn. He shouldn't be here!

In…

In…paradise.

"Mum – why am I here?"

His mother's eyes widened in shock and bewilderment.

"Mum – am I dead?" The last word drifted in the air for longer than it should have, and if he could feel it, the word was heavy and cold and constricting.

It was a word he didn't want to say.

He didn't want to leave the world behind.

Not yet.

Not damn yet!

"Mum – why am I here? Why am I dead?" A single tear rolled down his cheeks. His voice trembled like the meandering course of a river. He wanted to hold it all back, but it was too late for that now.

He felt his mother press her warmth closer to his. He didn't feel the cold. The world was perfect. He could even see butterflies and starlings moving closer to him in the summer light. He was at home on the house on the hill. Nothing had been burnt down – the house was here, his mother was here – everything that Ed had ever wanted was right in front of him again.

So why did he suddenly want none of it?

He was so _selfish._

"What if I told you that you're not?" Trisha said back. Her tone held anticipation and hope in its depths and Ed-

His heart was racing-

He wasn't-

But he thought-

He stumbled on his feet. "Why…why am I here then?"

"I just wanted to tell you good luck and how proud I am of you, my son," Trisha smiled, her grey eyes brimming with the love that didn't need to be expressed in words. Their actions were a loud enough music for the world to hear.

She held his hand in hers for a moment. She kissed him gently on the forehead and turned, her form lost in a flash of sunlight.

…

Edward turned around, and Resembool had vanished.

His limbs felt heavy – they had become automail again as they should have been.

His ribs felt heavy. His head was giddy. He could feel the cool slick of blood dripping down his forehead.

This was about right.

He was back at the Portal.

Bloody bastard Truth was waiting for him.

"What do you want you bastard? You have me," he looked at his missing limbs and corrected himself, "Well most of me here; you already have the rest!"

"But it is not you that I want."

"To Hell with your riddles, you bastard!" Edward lashed out, his teeth bared to points – he looked as feral as a wolf, and his eyes were narrowed in disgust. "Give him back!"

"Back to this old game again, are we? Aren't you bored with _always losing?_ " Truth leaned against his Door, and folded their arms – one a spectral white and the other Ed's flesh – waiting for an answer.

Edward was surprised by his solemn tone, "It doesn't matter if I _win_ or _lose_. It makes no difference to me," however, he quickly slipped back into his hot-headed self. "I just want my brother back dammit, you bastard, and I'll rip you to shreds until you do!"

"It is your brother's fault for getting killed."

Edward stared in horror at Truth. He took a step forward. His heart was still racing, and the spot on his forehead where his mother had kissed him was still warm. And his lips…he could almost imagine Winry pressed against him, her warmth flooding into him, two entwined as one against the world…

It felt too real. He was flushing red.

That music in his heart amplified.

 _"EDWARD!"_

That was Winry's voice. Speaking to him…through his heart? Edward shook his head in confusion. Truth looked oblivious.

 _"He isn't dead! Al isn't dead! Listen to me you dummy, if it's the only time you ever do, goddammit shorty!"_

 _"Fullmetal listen to your wife. That's an order!"_

Get. Out. Of. My. Head. Bastard.

A shiver ran down his spine. His heart was resonating with theirs. He licked his lips and shut his eyes, listening to their voices in the eerie silence of Truth's void. His hands clutched together above his heart, one flesh, one metal.

He would pray to keep Al safe.

* * *

Even Hawkeye was crying.

Roy had never seen Hawkeye cry, not even in the heat of war in Ishval.

He felt the same as she did; did they really have a right to cry now that they had signed up to the military and chained their lives up like dogs?

But that shouldn't have been the fate for Fullmetal.

That shouldn't have been fate for Al.

Roy squeezed his gloved hand quickly and the lance of pain caused the tears to stop falling. He couldn't be selfish now.

It was cold, and the wind was blowing up again.

He wanted to be inside with the warmth and fire. But staring at Ed's cold form by his side, covered lightly with a gentle drift of snow, Roy's heart wanted to break.

Shame it had been broken by Maes.

Now it was ripped to shreds by Ed.

Selfish bastards.

Leaving him all alone.

Leaving him to clear up their damn mistakes.

Too damn positive.

Too damn stubborn.

There was no point; Roy wouldn't be able to stop the crying whether he wanted to or not. He hadn't moved from Ed's side. He had decorated the sky with his flame alchemy in his anger and desperation that this was a lie – Ed couldn't be lying here dead next to him and Al had faded away forever.

There had been no sign of the dawn coming.

He had screamed in denial, crying and screaming, and as pathetic as it was, he wished that God would hear his plea and he would wake up and Fullmetal would be harassing him and Hughes would shove pictures of Elicia and Gracia into his face. Nothing would have changed.

But life changed. People moved on, flowing along that great wide tide that this world rested on.

Roy bowed his head beside Hawkeye over Ed's still body. At least she was discrete in her grief. She had even tried CPR for ten minutes. Meanwhile, Roy had been adrift on a sea of guilt and pain. He had lost his boys. They had drowned before them. He hadn't been able to hold onto their hands and bring them safely to the shore after all. He was hopeless, useless, pathetic-

"Colonel!"

…

"Colonel Mustang!"

…

"Colonel Mustang, you've got to listen to me!"

 _What's the point? I'm too late._

"Please Colonel-"

 _Just leave us alone. Please._

" _They're not dead, you selfish jerk!"_ Winry cried. Roy sat upright all of a sudden and there was Miss Rockbell, automail bag thrown over her shoulder

"How did you-"

"That doesn't matter! Al came to me. Ed did it. Al killed Envy. _He killed Envy!_ "

"It's too late. I don't want you to-"

"That's why we have to act now, Colonel." And Winry did the bravest thing he had seen. She stepped past the safety threshold of Roy and stepped into a position where she could see Ed's limp form. She didn't cry or pause. She dropped to his side, and started to rub at his shoulders, calling out his name. Again and again and again.

In his heart, Roy felt invisible strings pulling him over to Ed, like a quiet resonance.

When suddenly-

There. In front of him. As still as a ghost.

Al.

Al stared at him, and without speaking, flooded his mind with memories and thoughts and feelings. Roy felt extreme pain as he was shattered into a thousand pieces and then he was in a bright white place and there was a Door…he thought that he was dead, but he wasn't and then he made a bargain and he was spat out of the Door. He watched a boy in a red cloak weep at a chapel and there was nothing he could do about it. He then had enough and held the boy close to him at sunset by the ash remains of a house on the hill. He watched the boy gain his strength and save the life of a starling. He watched at how much the boy had grown but he began to worry…his time was running out and it was such a huge task but _he_ had to be the one to kill the Homunculus otherwise he wouldn't ever be able to come back for his brother.

And he wanted to come back into that bright and gentle world more than anything else that reality could offer. He didn't want to wait and watch like a ghost anymore.

He wanted his brother to be safe.

"Please, Colonel. Call Brother back." Al said, and then he was gone.

* * *

 _Winry's heart was thumping and her head was giddy as if experiencing vertigo. She must have had really low blood pressure._

 _And she held the dead phone receiver close to her ear._

 _She couldn't quite believe what she had heard._

 _The blacksmiths where Ed's automail had been sourced from had told her the whole bizarre story._

 _They had had an anonymous letter sent to them to deliver the scrap metal to Resembool for her to fashion into automail parts from scratch._

 _But this wasn't scrap metal._

 _This metal was far more precious than that._

 _This metal belonged to a soul._

 _To a person._

"Are you sure?!" Winry had cried down the phone and heard the bored grunt of a blacksmith who replied to her.

"Yes. The automail delivery that you used for Edward Elric's automail came from him."

 _Winry promised that she wouldn't cry. But she hadn't kept faithful to her promise._

 _She wasn't crying out of pain or sorrow however, which had been her source of tears for a long, long time._

 _She was crying out of pure joy._

 _Ed's automail came from steel that had recently been melted down._

You were never alone, Ed. How could you think that Al would leave you alone?

 _Granny told her to shut up from the next room; she was starting to sob loudly. Winry didn't care – she had to move, pack her bag, and get to Central as quickly as she could._

 _She glanced at a picture hanging in her workshop. A musty old picture she had hidden behind a pile of documents – one that she had stolen from Granny's collection. It was a picture of her, Ed and Al sitting staring into a river's currents at the edge of the forest in the Glen._

 _She rubbed her watery eyes hastily, smiling like an idiot. She raised her head to the workshop ceiling, staring at the sunlight filtering through, turning the world to dust. Maybe…what she had discovered could reach Ed._

 _Somehow._

 _Somewhere._

Al was always with you.

* * *

Edward could hear their voices, like the secret voices of people's hearts were being unlocked for the world to hear. They were as clear as daylight.

They were telling him to come back.

And he shrugged helplessly – they could all be so goddamn insistent.

He couldn't stay here. But he wasn't going back alone.

He was never going back alone.

He clenched his left hand gently. It provided him with an unspoken strength.

Edward took another step forward.

His bangs flickered across his face, and his golden eyes watched their progress silently like a cat. His limbs ached and his ribs were aching; they tugged with each breath that he took. He was sure some of his damn ribs were broken. Knowing him, it was probably the majority of them.

A lesson he had learnt: there was always worse pain to feel.

Nothing would compare to what he had felt at the funeral.

Except it wasn't a funeral. He had come back to get his brother. And he wasn't leaving without him.

Al was such a dumbass.

It was a certainty he felt just like when his automail had moved as if on its own accord to stab Envy. Edward couldn't explain it.

Imagine feeling a tingling in your arm. A ghostly tingling telling you to do something. That something would be dangerous and risky, but you were filled with such a confidence you acted without thinking. You just did it.

Like Edward using alchemy to deconstruct Envy's entire Philosopher's Stone. Except it wasn't him alone…

That feeling had been with him.

As if that feeling was a person.

His heart beat in acquiescence again.

Al?

Edward strained to hear that voice. He could hear Roy and Winry's voices. But he strained harder, like he was looking for a tiny constellation in that star-swept sky.

He searched, focusing all of attention on that lost voice-

He could hear nothing-

And then-

 _"Beat him, Brother."_

 _Al. You're- Where the hell are you, you dumbass!_

 _"Here."_

And Edward turned to his side.

There he was. Alphonse Elric. Not an armoured knight; a soul's doll. Not a young boy. Not a ghost, radiating a beautiful orange light. But Alphonse Elric in his human body, his golden alive with their own rekindled flame.

He stepped next to Edward. He smiled nervously beside his brother, but when Edward shook his head pathetically, Al laughed once.

And Truth – damn the bastard was still here – step backwards.

…

…

"You win."

"Huh?" Edward spluttered.

"No, we _both_ won," Al gleamed in triumph. He turned towards Edward. And then Ed seemed to understand, as if everything was clicking into place. Why had it not made sense before?

Al's armour was sent to a blacksmith's. The steel had been melted down and sent to the Rockbell engineers in Resembool. It had been attached as automail to Edward's arm and leg. That was why Ed had felt a connection to the metal – a part of his brother's soul had resided there. So when Edward had stabbed Envy, Al's soul in the metal had come into contact with Envy. The contact had caused the violent alchemic reaction.

But…Al had killed Envy.

He had won the bargain.

Edward blinked in surprise.

Well of course Al was a genius too. And tall. Too damn _tall._

Even after all of this time, Edward hadn't been left alone.

He grabbed Al's sleeve and started to run for the Portal, kindly donating his fist to Truth's face. "Keep them limbs! Enjoy them, bastard!"

Edward didn't care about them in the slightest.

They had a world to return to. He damn hoped that the Colonel had shed a few tears for him.

Al was safe by his side, where he should be. Al was going to feel the Sun again. Finally…finally…

 _Goddamn emotional shortass_ , Edward complained as they stepped through the Portal. He had made it this far, and _now_ he was crying.

Well…

Was that really such a bad thing?

Hmm…

Maybe it wasn't.

After all, there was still a sunrise for them to watch.

* * *

 _Al was nervous. His armour was tinkling lightly against the drizzle that had been looming over Central for days. He couldn't feel the cold of course, but the consistent rattle of rain against his armour could even drain his steady temperament._

 _He fiddled with his gauntlets anxiously._

 _What if he had gone to the wrong place? What if they wouldn't do it?_

Come on, Alphonse, you've got an older brother to look up to!

 _Well, not exactly look up to, but close enough. He suppressed a laugh – at least he would ways be taller than Ed._

 _That little interlude had helped to calm his thoughts. He nodded determinedly – this was what he wanted to do._

 _"Hello there!" Al called at the workshop doors._

 _A gruff looking blacksmith lumbered towards him, and Al's metaphoric heart started to race. He was lucky he didn't have his human body; in the armour he could easily conceal his nerves._

 _"Hmmm. What do you want?" Blunt and to the point._

 _"Um…I was wondering…do you supply steel to automail engineers?"_

 _The man blinked and scratched his beard in surprise. "Sometimes we do, I guess, but it's uncommon-"_

 _"Good." With confidence radiating through his tone, Al reached into his bag and pulled out a sack of money, placing it lightly into the blacksmith's hands. "When Major Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero of the People, needs his automail replacing, send it to the Rockbell engineers in Resembool!"_

 _"Send what exactly?"_

 _"This," Al clomped at his armour with a steel fist. "It will be sent to you when the time is right."_

 _He turned to walk away._

 _"Who are you?"_

 _"Just a brother," Al waved away the question. "That's all."_

* * *

 _Well that was longer than expected! And so cheesy oh my goodness. I hope it came out alright!_

 _But you know, I'm so happy to have finally reached this stage. I could finally update this part!_ _And yes, apart from the epilogue, that means Never Alone is over. Not quite. But that's the main story completed. It has definitely been a journey all right._

 _Thank you everyone, whether you have been walking with this story from the start, the middle or the end. Your support has been invaluable._ _Hopefully the epilogue will be up on Sunday, so I'll see you then!_

 _If you have enjoyed, do leave me a review. It's lovely hearing your feedback :)_

 _Dawn signing off for the second to last time...Now I must go and cry my soul out XD_


	25. Epilogue

Epilogue

His ass was freezing and his teeth were chattering in ridiculous protest. Damn it was supposed to be spring already, but of course, the world had other plans for him.

The early morning hues in the sky drifted over the horizon; inky purples and blues were scattering towards the west, for in the east, a mass of pastel pinks and reds were brewing. The sunrise wouldn't be far to come. A serene mist was rising over the mountains and the grass was saturated with dew. Birdsong drifted through the air and smoke profusely rose from the chimney beside him.

Ed coughed lightly. That was probably Winry making her cup of tea for the day.

But there wasn't time for that!

"Hurry up, you two!" Ed shouted, thumping his foot on the roof. It shook; dust was probably trickling from the attic now. He would probably have to clean it up later. _Probably._ Living with that gearhead meant he would _certainly_ be doing the tidying up for the damage he had caused.

He smiled; despite the uprooted chaos which was guaranteed living back at home in Resembool, things had returned to his definition of "normalcy".

 _And this journey_ , he thought, _is nearly over._

* * *

Ed had woken up when the sky had been as dark as coal. The moon had set, although the stars had still been glimmering in their aqua light, minute halos glimmering in the heavens. He had lain there awake, watching and wondering about what was going to happen next. His goal of bringing Al's body back had been accomplished. But there was so much that he wanted to do-

The pain that had been caused through alchemy had tormented him since the failed resurrection and Al's "death". He had been haunted by the ghosts of his mind, driven to a despair and madness that he didn't think he would be able to escape from; it had been better to blot out of the pain like ink over a letter, a memory, and wait until those feelings went away.

That only caused for them to bite back harder.

He had drifted back into a semi-conscious state, dreaming of ink and letters and quills when-

The letters.

Al's letters had been scattered across his desk for months, lying untouched and abandoned. After Al had his body back, he had been admitted to the hospital in Central for bedrest and hadn't been discharged until weeks later; Al's body had had a lot of growing to catch up on. And his dexterity and motor skills had been appalling considering in the suit of armour all he had to do was extend his control along the limbs and _will_ them to move. With muscles and joints at his disposal, which had atrophied through the time spent at the Gate, it was no surprise that the nurses had plugged him with IV. Al disliked the medical attention but he knew it was the fastest way for his body to heal.

There would be time to do everything once he was fully recovered.

Ed had remained with Al, with Winry, Granny, Mustang and his team paying regular visits. The Colonel used the visits as an excuse to slack from his work. Yet Hawkeye didn't seem to mind her superior officer spending hours talking to the Elrics; hours drifted by unknowingly and already, hospital visiting hours would have ended.

Cheap, manipulative bastard harassing his younger brother.

Ed wouldn't have been able to return to sleep now. He stretched and arched his back like a tiger and heaved himself to his feet, balancing on his left arm. Careful as not to wake Al, he had tiptoed across the room to the stack of letters buried on the desk.

He looked at the meticulous handwriting; Al was the gifted artist and musician in the family, while all Edward seemed capable of producing was slop and illegible handwriting. There was such care poured into his cursive prose labelled _Colonel Roy Mustang…_ but Ed skipped over them parts.

The address wasn't important, but the dates imprinted in the corner of the letters were. Ed wanted to read the letters in chronological order and tab the journey that Al had been on through their endless search for their bodies.

Al had always been by his side, but his brother's personal experiences of their journey remained a mystery to Ed.

Damn what if Al thought he was a reckless, hot-headed midget who left destruction on their wake and some sort of shenanigans were centred on them on a daily basis?

Ed groaned internally; his shoulders slumped and with his left hand he moved the letters into a row. There were at least several dozen of them; Al had sure been busy. But why had Ed never seen these letters before?

The darkness which surrounded him silently gave the older Elric his answer; Al didn't need to sleep. Al could spend the night tabbing on the events of the day while Ed dreamed uneasily of Gates and chimeras.

However he had not had a bad dream since Al had returned.

Rubbing his eyes to dispel the last traces of tiredness, Ed moved back to admire his handy work. There lying before him was a complete collection of letters written by Al to the Colonel, which had returned to Ed's possession. Here was a chronology of Al's experience of his lost childhood in which the two brothers had been forced to grow up to quickly and enlist themselves to the State in a last hope to get their bodies back with a legendary substance – the stuff of fable.

Ed's heart had started pounding. What if…

What if Al had hated their journey?

What if Al had been pretending about it all along?

What if Al hated him?

"Shut it, Elric," Ed hissed to himself. He should never think such things about Al. This was a telling of Al's experience. What was etched on the paper was final.

He drew a steady breath in the hope to slow his pounding heart down. With his foot, he dragged the chair away from its place tucked behind the desk and slopped into the seat, but then pushed himself upright, as if he was attending a formal gathering.

Even though he was a fast reader, there always had to be a place to start.

He tentatively reached for the first letter, its papery touch delicate and soft like a feather. Ed pulled open the rickety drawer to his left slowly and delved into its contents, his hand reappearing with a match. Hoping Winry wouldn't notice the mark that would be left behind, he flicked the match across the table like chalk. And on his first try, a spark ignited in the otherwise dark and silent room. The candle was unlit as yet (and Ed briefly wondered how long it had been waiting there for him) and its waxy touch embraced the flame as they were brought into close contact. Like two lovers entwined, the melting wax and quivering flame, the shadows cast on the wall resembled those lovers dancing by moonlight.

Ed peeled the corner of the letter open and it opened easily; it had obviously been read by its recipient before. However, the ease with which the envelope popped open signified that it had been read more than once, more than twice…

He cocked his head in confusion…strange.

But he was even keener to read through their contents. The candle wouldn't burn on forever; already its wax was crashing in globules to the floor like shedding skin.

The paper slid onto his desk like a pond skater skirting across the water's surface, far more delicate than the flickering flame beside him. There was not a crease to be seen, and even though this letter was five years old, it didn't contain the musty smell of books being locked away in a cupboard for years. It smelt of nature and trees, of a world contained within the confines of ink and paper, like a voice yearning to be heard.

It smelt like Al.

It was strange what the night gave to Ed; he focused on the tiny details he would have deemed insignificant in the daylight. Perhaps it was because in the night, even the quietest of voices could be heard in the rolling pastures of Resembool.

However, as his fingers furled around the paper's edge, he was suddenly reluctant to open it any further. He was about to see the world from a whole new perspective; the prospect was terrifying.

Ed closed his eyes and took three deep breaths.

And then he opened the letter's contents.

* * *

"About time you two made it!" Ed called as he heard the clambering of moving bodies climbing up the ladder. He bustled over, drawing in his cloak closer around him – its blanket warmth caressing and gentle.

Al's head appeared first. Messy bed hair stuck up in all directions, and he had bags under his eyes. However, his golden eyes were gleaming with vigour that Ed couldn't ever stop looking at. Whenever he thought about their journey – and his sacrifice – he knew that everything was worth it

Winry quickly followed. She carried with her the aroma of kitchen and caffeine; Ed wondered smugly if they were going to get an apple pie as a treat for coming home.

After all, this was the first night that the three of them were back in Resembool.

He had thought of inviting Granny, but the old short bat would have declined straightaway.

"Granny not coming then?" he asked teasingly.

Al chuckled lightly but Winry scoffed at the thought, "She's getting on, Ed. Her back just wouldn't cop-"

"Or maybe she's just too goddamn short," Ed said heartlessly.

"I heard that!" a voice shouted from below.

"Don't get Granny cross, Brother, you know what her temper can be li-"

"Heard that too you dull lack wits! Some of us are trying to sleep!" Pinako bellowed. Ed heard a window snap shut.

Well that was that, it seemed.

The three blonds stared at each other in silence and burst out into a fit of laughter a moment later. Ed's stomach heaved painfully; his ribs not having fully healed yet, but he didn't stop laughing. Al was doubled over and Winry was wiping tears from her eyes. The reaction was so natural.

Several months ago, this would not have been possible.

All of that pain and sacrifice; _this_ is what it had been for.

As the laughter died away slowly, Ed's thoughts trailed to his automail. His leg's connective motor had been severed and with a quick inspection from Winry and a few beating of the wrench over the head had led her to say that even though the parts would be expensive, it was easily fixable.

But his shattered automail arm it seemed had left Ed's nerves capable of feeling beyond the shoulder port, as if a part of them had been lost. Because when he had braced himself for the connectivity of his automail, he had felt nothing. No pain, no sensation, no feeling.

It was as if his arm was a deadweight being carried around by him. Even on the rooftop, it dangled uselessly by his side. He had tried to spend hours at a time focusing on recuperating the fragile nerves he had shattered by moving one finger at a time, trying to lift each part of his automail slowly. Although despite his efforts, he still felt nothing.

It was as if that had been Ed's toll for bringing Al back. If he ever found a way to get his flesh arm back (not that he was too keen to meet face to face with Truth anytime soon), there was no guarantee that he would be able to control the nervous movements of his arm, as if the nerves were not only damaged, but that there were no nerves left to control.

And he had refused to have his leg refitted. He wanted to carry a part of Al around with him wherever he, knew that his brother was helping him to stand on his own and _walk_. It was a fact true both literally and metaphorically.

As if Winry was responding to his thoughts – she probably could – Ed was prompted away from his mind. "How is my useless lump this morning?"

Her blue eyes glistened like pools and even though Ed scorned himself for being so goddamn ridiculous, he blushed momentarily. He was suddenly at a loss for words and didn't know how to reply, "It's cold."

"Well at least I'm trying to show an interest in your moronic lifestyle, alchemic freak!"

"I don't tinker all day at metal; I transmute it in seconds!"

"Don't bring this back to alchemy, you dummy!"

Before Ed could reply, he heard a quiet laughter beside him. While Winry was distracted fuming over alchemy, Ed shuffled around to look at his younger brother.

Al was twittering happily to himself, and Ed heard the whisper of " _my_ useless lump" under his breath. He nudged Al but Al only beamed at Ed, shuffling around to face the east.

The sunrise would appear at any moment.

In a matter of minutes, the sky's palette had shifted from inky and pastel hues to vibrant pinks and oranges, flaring like crystallised amber. Trails of clouds had been scorched red and violets, as if every path the dawn's light took encroached its surroundings with fire. It looked like Heaven had come to Earth and everything bright and warm was shining in the sky in one second.

The stars had vanished, as if they were fleeing from the Heaven's light.

No longer did the crimson remind him of blood.

No longer did the clouds remind him of rain.

No longer did the hills remind him of the loneliness and barrenness which had haunted his soul at the funeral.

He could hear the echo of birdsong, and the building of Al and Win's anticipating breaths. Ed was wedged in the middle of them both, but he took each of their hands into his left and clasped them with his own.

And then-

Brilliance.

Radiance.

 _Light._

 _Warmth._

 _Beauty._

Mesmerising, illuminating _beauty._

Ed closed his eyes as the warmth seeped through his soul; it felt like every trace of a nightmare and bad memory were being burnt to a crisp, much like Roy's dancing flames.

He didn't have to be haunted by his past now.

Watching the sunrise with Al and Win…

Was it?

Yeah…

This was his perfection.

* * *

Roy didn't want to do this. The task, this arduous, gruelling task was too painful for anyone to have to undertake-

Why did it have to be him? Why did he have to be the wait of this horrific burden?

And yet the pile of paperwork sat on his desk, unfinished, and he released an exasperated sigh. It was still too damn early for his brain to function, and even the coffee wasn't working. He had two cups of empty espresso littered across his papers. Their job was to keep him awake. Roy Mustang wasn't supposed to _think_ before midday.

Damn military protocol. Damn these hours.

He fiddled with a cap on his pen and let it fall loosely on the table. He drew a chess piece from his pocket, staring at the King in silent admiration.

Could he persuade one of his team to have a game with him?

Of course not. Since Hawkeye had returned to her babysitting duties, she was as diligent as ever.

He yawned and surveyed the room, his charcoal eyes watching his subordinates work tirelessly while he lazed around; finally things seemed to be returning to normal. However, he couldn't see the Lieutenant around.

This wasn't unlike her. Roy expected to be harassed by her sharp tongue every ten minutes at least, and that was when she was in a _good mood._

Suddenly, the door opened. Roy shifted straight into his chair, but sank immediately when he recognised Hawkeye coming in through the door carrying two cups of…cocoa?

The reason why followed after.

Alphonse Elric stepped into the office, his previously atrophied muscles lean beneath his grey coat. His eyes were alert and his hair neatly cropped. Far more professional from what followed behind.

Edward Elric – scowling. Edward Elric – short.

"Good to see you, Alphonse," Roy greeted. "Oh and you're there too, Fullmetal! Sorry, I didn't see you there."

A vein bulged. "Who are you calling so short that he couldn't even be seen under a magnifying glass!" Ed lashed out while Al shrugged indifferently and started sipping from his hot chocolate.

Nobody else offered a reply to the indignation. It would have to be him. It would _always_ have to be him.

"I wouldn't call you the size of a runt anymore, probably closer to a dwarf…"

"I'm _average_ now. Did you hear that bastard – average!" Roy had to admit that as he looked at Ed standing next to Hawkeye, he was nearly her height. But not quite.

"Are you really sure he's the older brother, Al?" Roy called over to Al. Al tilted his head quizzically to the side but before he could reply he was interrupted by a very volatile Edward.

"Don't support him with this, Al! Don't let him get his own way!"

"I'm not supposed to lie though, Brother," Al said softly, which only fuelled Ed's rage even more. His left arm flailed around in the air, while his right arm was still. Roy then remembered – Fullmetal had lost sensation in his arm. But he was sure Fullmetal would agree with him on that one point – anything was worth watching Al drinking cocoa in spring when it was getting warm again.

"Seems strange though, Fullmetal. I thought you said you would 'never set foot in the bastard's office again'?" Roy questioned, leaning back into his desk, his feet resting on his pile of paperwork. Sunlight was shining through the slanted window, even though outside, it wasn't warm enough to leave the building yet without a coat.

Only a blink of time would pass before summer would come again.

Sticky work uniform and damn insects buzzing around in his office. Hell.

"You're damn right, bastard. But Al persuaded me to come." Ed slopped into the sofa set beside his brother and brought the cup of cocoa to his lips, where he started to blow on the mixture. When he set the cup down again, a trail of froth had been left. Roy had to suppress a taunt. He could easily forget Ed's age with a fearsome title like Fullmetal.

"Oh, why is this?" Roy queried, his interest sparked. He leaned forward in his seat, and brought his hands close to his head, the King pressing tightly into his palms.

"Envy," Ed growled the word.

Roy watched the blond in silence.

"That damn Homunculus wasn't the only one of its kind. If there's a whole immortal legion out there responsible for the wars in Amestris, they have to be stopped. I won't let anyone go through anymore Hell in my lifetime!" Ed refuted.

The prospect of hunting down an army of Homunculi was initially terrifying. They had so much power and could blend into the darkness like shadows. But if he wanted to lead this country one day, being the bane of the Homunculi was an impressive feat in his favour.

Although for Roy Mustang, that wasn't the most important thing at all.

They had threatened the lives of his team. There was no punishment too small for that.

He wiped his forehead with a marine sleeve. Roy was supposed to be the CO here, but not only was he bossed around by Hawkeye, but also by this pipsqueak. His fingers itched to set his blond braid on fire – now that would be amusing. However, Roy wouldn't be able to do that – the brat was too short for there to be anything to burn.

He surrendered reluctantly to the demands of the alchemist.

"Alright, Fullmetal. Where do we start?"

* * *

 _The end! I'm sorry about Ed's arm, but I think by bringing Al back, everything couldn't be perfect ;( although Al is here, and that is what matters._

 _This story has been an incredible journey for me - I've wanted to pull my hair out in frustration, I've cried my eyes out and I've laughed in random places for no apparent reason. But would I do it all again? In a second._

 _Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed and favourited. In my eyes, you are all gems. Stay fabulous everyone, and I hope to see you soon! Even if this story is over, the writing definitely isn't. *stares at pile of unfinished stories o.O*_

 _Turn over for Al's last letter. It deserved an update of its own. ;)_

 _Dawn_


	26. The Last Letter

The Last Letter

 _Dear Colonel Mustang,_

 _I'm sorry it has been so long! Brother is always on the move and to be honest, I have forgotten about writing letters for these past six months. So much has happened…_

 _I think…since what happened to Mr Hughes, so soon after Nina, something inside of me (and I know I speak for Brother when I say this too) changed. We didn't speak about it, but our search efforts became more desperate. We knew we had to pay Mr Hughes back for his kindness, and we couldn't let anyone suffer like Nina did._

 _I think we realized that the world isn't just about the two of us. Winry and Granny and Teacher have always supported us. And even if Brother seems to hate you, Colonel, I know he doesn't. He's just…reluctant to lean on anyone. He thinks he has to be strong and the hero. I love him for that, but sometimes, it's ok to slip._

 _You don't ask questions Colonel. You see Ed as an equal – an alchemist – and that is what he needs. He doesn't want pity or sympathy. He just wants people around him who'll watch our backs. Isn't that what this world is about?_

 _This world is such a huge and bright place. Sure, things in Amestris need to get better. But if we support you into becoming Fuhrer, Colonel, Brother will expect you to make this a better place._

 _We're coming close, I know it. We're going to get our bodies back, like finally seeing a dim light at the end of a tunnel. These have been a chaotic five years, but I wouldn't trade this life or memories for anything. Neither would Brother._

 _Thank you for starting us on this road, Colonel._

 _-Al_

* * *

 _In case you're reading this thinking: is this the epilogue? It's not really..._ _This is like chapter 2 of the epilogue!_ _Turn back a chapter and there you'll find yourself a completed epilogue. Enjoy :)_


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